Look Before You Leap
by Eilike
Summary: The blood of a witch renders Alucard alive and - mortal. An ancient ritual might help, but Sir Integra has to "be prepared" to perform it, whatever *that* means. On top of all, Anderson is out there, trying to kill everyone, who's not yet on his knees...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or any of its characters. I do not make money from this.

Rated M for safety; there's flying blades wounding people and a vampire quite explicitly drinking blood, and you never know, what later chapters will bring.

(Update: 09/01/10: I am writing the last chapters now and it felt safe to change the rating to T. Hope, no one is disappointed now)

***Chapter 1***

Anderson was right on time.

Just when the Hellsing troops in the dark alley below were getting the upper hand on the band of ghouls, the pater's first blade swished past Alucard's head.

The red-clad vampire turned slowly: »I always assumed, a monkey like you could climb walls.«

He dodged five blades, fired his Jackal and hit Anderson's left arm.

Then, as if on a secret signal, they both set off, running side by side. They raced across the roofs of the London suburb like characters in some old fashioned arcade game: leaping, dodging, shooting, flinging blades and switching positions. Eventually, the paladin had the vampire cornered. Alucard stood with his back against a chimney and enjoyed himself immensely: »Don't keep me waiting! Your move first! Then it's my turn!«

Anderson seemed to consider, where to sink the first blade.

»Come on, hurry!« Alucard pointed at his heart. »Here! Deadly, if you were fighting a human. Or here! My left lung. Choking on one's own blood feels nasty, even for me.«

Anderson stabbed.

Alucard staggered and looked down: »Both lungs. Now, _that's _what I call nasty!«

He choked. Blood sprayed from his lips.

»Hey! You lost your marbles up there? Do you know, what time it is?«

Alucard froze. Three storeys down, a door had opened, and suddenly, the clear night air was filled with a special, unmistakable fragrance: maiden blood. Irresistably drawn towards the sweet scent, the vampire side-stepped to peer over the edge of the roof. Anderson immediately spiked him with blades, screaming some crap about redemption and sin and how thou shalt avenge the death of immaculate gingerbread girls, by henceforward watering the lilies with yer own vile blood.

_Something like that, anyways._

Alucard was no longer interested in this fight or Anderson's rantings. He aimed over his shoulder and shot Anderson, not only once, but three times, square in the head. Then, he nimbly moved down the wall to stand in front of the woman, who'd asked for marbles and the time. His vampiric senses told him that she was well in her thirties. But she looked younger in her frilly green dress that matched the colour of her eyes. Her hair was dyed red and curly. She wore silver rings, wooden bracelets and a whole bunch of necklaces: the Christian cross, the Celtic cross, the Egyptian Ankh.

Her quizzical look reminded Alucard that he had about a dozen knifes stuck in various parts of his body, mostly his back. She took that pretty well for a non-Hellsing. There was no fear in her eyes and even more telling – none in her scent.

She stepped aside and gestured him to enter her quarters.

»Or are you of that Styrian sect that insists on being verbally invited?« she asked. »In that case: Please, do come in!«

Alucard entered a room that was stuffed with knick-knack: teddybears, porcellaine dolls and figurines, Harlekin, voodoo dolls, plastic flowers, a collection of flags and postcards on the wall, sea shells from some European beach, a stone labelled ‚Tintagel Castle' and another from ‚Stonehenge'. Clothes were stored in piles on the floor. There were candles and oil lamps, charcoal and chalk.

The only place neat and tidy was her bed. Of course, it held teddybears in abundance, too.

The only scent, Alucard could smell clearly over the fragrance of wax, ashes, chalk dust and perfumes, was her blood. Her maiden blood.

»What's your name?« he asked.

»Call me Ann«, she said, removing some twisted and crooked tree limbs from an umbrella stand. »You can put the blades in here. If you don't want to keep them, that is.«

Alucard started to pull out blades and stacked them as ordered: »Ann. That your real name?«

»As real as they come«, she said. »At least, you can't use it for anagrams. Got it? Ann-agrams. Nice one, huh?«

»What's wrong with anagrams?«

»Everybody thinks, he's got a right to your soul, just because he's had a certain say in the name, it goes by. But the joke is on them, because time will change many things. Especially those, that ‚go by'.« The woman shrugged. »As I said: Ann will do. Now, let me help you with that blade.«

There was one last bayonet left. It was located under Alucard's left shoulder, out of his reach as long as he did not alter the length of his arm. Ann hefted the weapon and pulled it out. Alucard had not yet braced himself and cried out.

»It wouldn't have hurt less, if I'd pulled it out slowly«, Ann said, putting the blade into the umbrella stand that by now looked like the forgotten toolbox of a circus swordsman.

Alucard grinned: »Practical girl!«

She made him sit down on the bed. »You can heal yourself, I presume?«

»You know about that?«

»I know a lot about nosferatu«, Ann had stepped halfway behind a red curtain. Alucard heard water running, apparently she had a faucet back there. »I also know that, when he healing is done, you will need to drink blood to replenish your strength.«

»I will, indeed, but don't worry. I'm a well-trained hellhound. I don't bite the hand that strokes.«

»Oh, but I invite you to«, Ann said distractedly, looking for a towel.

»Come again?«

She was out of sight now, talking from behind the curtain: »I'd be happy to provide blood to fulfill your healing.«

She re-emerged, holding up the sleeve of her left arm. She had put off her bracelets and the crosses around her neck, except for the Ankh, and the freshly scrubbed skin was rosy.

It was then, Alucard realized, she was not joking. She was offering him blood.

He knew, he should reject her. There had to be a catch. He should get out fast and run. Report to Sir Integra. Then come back and start this thing over from the beginning.

But she was a living being, offering him blood, and, Hell, he needed it! His body was aching to have that blood, only a tiny little bit of it...

He quickly scanned her thoughts, a predator warily circling the fallen prey, not quite believing it to be really dead. There was no betrayal on her mind, just a genuine desire to feed him. Pleasure him. Heal him.

Alucard took hold of her wrist. Even the throb of the pulse was singing an invitation to his sensitive hearing: »You want to be turned into a draculina, is that it?«

»I can't be transformed«, she said. »I am, what earlier centuries called a witch. And you are not my first ‚encounter of the eyeteeth kind', so I should have found out about the consequences, if there were any, by now.«

»I understand«, Alucard said, and he really did. This was terrific! She was technically a virgin and probably forced to keep it up by the ritual necessities of her occult profession. So she'd learned to derive her carnal satisfaction from the kiss of the undead – and to get away with it somehow!

Alucard chose the spot, then peered over her arm: »I'll not kill you. There's something about you, I just might come to like.«

»Aye«, she said, closing her eyes. »About one and a half gallons of it.«

Growling softly, Alucard brought down his fangs and broke her skin. The blood came in great gushes that crushed down his throat with the force of a tidal wave, setting his solar plexus ablaze. Red hot sensations raced through even the most filigrane nervous fibres.

He caught on with the rhythm of her heart and soon, he was swooning with delight, alternately sucking and downing the blood that spurted into his mouth. Crimson sparkles danced behind his closed eyes. He could have drowned like this, with rapture filling every vein, then every capillar of his body. And there seemed no end of it: Ann's heart was strong, almost too strong for a person her size and age, and it kept the blood coming.

The monster was warring with conscience and the promise given.

The monster had no real trouble doing the little bastard under.

As the rapture reached its peak, Alucard was making purring and whimpering noises in his throat. Ann moved her lips incessantly, praying to some heathen gods, perhaps. Her heart was weakening quickly now, her blood being almost completely drained. Alucard released her wrist, or rather, he tore himself away from her. He swayed, but, being an experienced bloodsucker, he recovered fast. She smiled, as he gently laid her back.

»I broke my promise«, Alucard told her. »I killed you.«

»There is a magic to blood given freely«, Ann said. »Especially mine. You will be healed in a way, you did not even deem possible.«

Alucard reeled back, as she sat on the edge of the bed: »Healed? Of what?«

»Can't you feel it starting?«

Yes, he could tell, there was something happening. Something was changing within his body. Fibres, that had just been tingling with delight, were now sending strange signals. It felt, like he'd been leaving messages to all his limbs and they were getting back to him now, after more than fivehundred years and all at the same time.

He aimed his Jackal and released the safety catch: »What have you done?«

»You should sit down«, Ann said, genuine concern in her voice. »You're shaking.«

»What have you done?« He pulled the trigger.

He had not meant to actually hit her – he needed her to answer his question, after all - but he had not meant to miss her by almost two inches, either. Worse yet, Alucard had not been prepared for feeling the recoil of the heavy weapon, so the next shot perforated the wall a full yard off-target.

Before Alucard could readjust his aim, a sharp pain struck him in the chest. It was red hot, like a shaft of burning quicksilver through his heart. He opened his mouth to scream, but he could only gasp. In his mind, however, he called out.

_Police girl! It is I! Your master is calling you!_

...

_POLICE GIRL! Answer me!_

A flying bayonet sent Alucard's Jackal tumbling to the ground and slithering across the floor.

»Oh no, pater!« Ann said sharply. »This is not the time to intrude upon us! And in such a rude manner!«

Alucard hissed, cradling his injured hand. Blood drenched his white glove. His natural reflex was to heal the wound. But the flow just would not stop.

It was then, he realized, he was in real trouble.

Again, he sent out a silent cry for help. Only, he did not focus on Seras Victoria's name. There was another one, a secret one, a name, that he had not used in a long time - and only ever teasingly.

Yet, he knew that if this name didn't penetrate, nothing would.

He found Ann standing in Anderson's way, her arms stretched out to block any incoming blades.

_Practical girl._

Alucard opted for the back exit. He turned and phased through the wall.

For one absolutely horrifying moment, he felt caught in the stone. The fabric seemed to tighten all around him, and he barely managed to get through to the other side. His lungs hurt, his head throbbed. There was grey dust on his hat and his coat was torn. He found himself in a backyard, separated from the street by a ten-foot wire mesh fence. He climbed that fence, focussing on one thought only: He had to get away from here. Back to the Hellsing mansion. Back to his coffin.

Meanwhile, in Ann's room, Anderson was trying to tear down the wall that had let his opponent escape. He screamed and ranted about cowardice and how this was a monster's way of foul play. Then he turned on the witch, giving her a piece of his mind about her unholy practices.

»We've been through this before, Anderson«, Ann simply said. »Your job was it, to bring the Hellsing vampire here. My business was with him and your arch bishop. My thanks go to the latter, my compassion belongs to the first. For you, I have only silence.«

And she stopped talking to him.

Her special gift was the third eye, and that sense showed her a young woman sitting up in her bed, her hair so blonde, it was almost white, her short-sighted blue eyes wide with terror.

She mouthed four syllables into the emptiness of her bedroom, which was strange, because Ann knew, her recent guest's name consisted of three.

But then, the witch understood: The two of them, they had secret names for each other.

This was unexpected and complicated matters.

As did the overzealous paladin complicate matters, even though he'd stomped off in a fury.

Ann had done jobs like this one before, using her gift in favour of creatures, the leaders of the Iscariot division planned to eliminate. No one had told her that the paladin would still be after Alucard, once she had finished with him.

Her eyes moved to the postcards on the wall: She had saved so many souls and in a more palpable way than Anderson claimed for his blessed bayonets.

She wondered, if she might have been wrong this time.

Still, she smiled, saying nothing.

*** End of Chapter 1 ***

Author's note: Here we go. "The game is afoot" - or rather: racing back to the Hellsing mansion. You will probably have noticed by now: I'm not an English native speaker. So, if strange grammar and funny prepositions don't scare you off, please review, and chapter 2 will be online within a couple of days.


	2. Chapter 2

Angel-wing2: Thanks for reviewing; I'll do my best to make the rest of the story at least as interesting as the beginning

DevilNinja: Thanks for your praise. I can imagine Alucard laughing at a lot of things that go under the label of „vampire" in our world. As for „Twilight", I would actually expect him to simply ignore Edward and go for Bella instead. By the way, you can relax: This story is definitely going to be completed, as long as I feel that there's people out there, who enjoy reading it.

Do I have to disclaim every chapter separately?

I do not own Hellsing and/or the related characters, I do not make money by this.

Now, on with the story:

***Chapter 2***

Integra stood in the Hellsing mansion's emergency ward, looking down on Alucard and trying to will him to open his eyes.

It was simply not possible that he should not react to her presence beside his bed. Or to Seras Victoria standing on his other side, cradling his hand in hers. The No-Life King was not fond of physical contact, as long as it did not serve the purpose of feeding or fighting. Today, however, the infringement went even deeper than the draculina kneading his limp fingers: Someone had taken off his red fedora, his coat, his boots, his sunglasses, the Casull and ammo supply, tucked the rest of him in - and probably survived.

That, or Walter had been extremely quick in dispatching the corpse.

Integra leaned in close to Alucard's ear: »Don't you play games with me!«, she warned softly. »You know, I won't tolerate any attempt to manipulate - «

»Beg your pardon, Sir Integra, but he's not pretending«, Walter said.

»How can you be so sure? What happened, anyway?«

»Seras Victoria spotted Alucard in the street, three blocks from tonight's battle site«, Walter said, repeating the report, the officer of the rescue team had given him, while the men rushed Alucard to this room.

»Congratulations«, Integra nodded towards the draculina. »Your senses are improving fast!«

»Actually, it was not that difficult«, Seras said, her eyes cast down. »I just saw his red cloak a little earlier than the others.«

»Anyway, they picked him up in the car«, Walter went on. »One visible injury on his right hand. He didn't report, where he'd been or why he was racing down the street like Baskerville turned loose on him.«

»Stubborn and secretive as always!« Integra snorted, glaring down at the white bandage that was wrapped around the vampire's hand, as if she'd noticed only now.

»Er, no – it seems, he was struggling to catch his breath. He passed out shortly afterwards.«

Integra looked up: »What?«

Walter gestured for Seras to take over, and she reluctantly picked up the thread of the narrative: »You see, Lady Integra, I had this strange feeling all along. There was something just not right with my master. I couldn't tell, what it was. I mean, I should have known at once, but I was so crowded with humans, their blood and smell, and anyway - «

»Seras! What happened?«

»When Aluc- my master passed out, the boys asked me to check on him. I guess, they were afraid of some reflex, that he might strike out at them or something. I was in the backseat and I leaned over to the front, and when I was so close to his throat, that was, when I noticed.« Seras looked up and her eyes were gleaming red, an infallible sign of her distress: »Sir Integra, my master - somehow, he's come alive again. His heart is beating. He's got a pulse. His body is generating heat.«

»Impossible, Seras! You are not making any sense!«

»He is breathing even now, Sir Integra«, Seras insisted desperately. »Breathing, while he's unconscious! He – our kind never do that. I mean, we like - sleep in coffins all day, don't we?«

»Seras! You must be mistaken!«

»I utterly regret, but I must object, Sir Integra«, said Walter, his eyes on a list of medical sheets. »Seras Victoria's er... intuitive observation is correct. All tests prove her right.«

Doubtfully, Integra looked at the pale face on the pillow: »He's alive? By human standards?«

Walter stood next to her: »Not very much so, right now, but with some dedication and, I daresay, getting the hang of it.«

Integra lit a cigar, taking her time: She'd known, something bad had happened, ever since she had woken from a nightmare, in which Alucard had called her by a name, only he could possibly know. The fact, that he used it now to reach her, indicated, that he was not in one of his usual "release control art restriction until, oh, I don't know, till I get bored or something"-situations, but in trouble.

Real trouble.

Couldn't he just have given her a hint, how deep this shit was, before plunging in head first?

»What are we going to do now, Sir Integra?« asked Seras.

Integra inhaled deeply on her cigar: »Well, in any case, we're definitely _not_ going to put him in a coffin, Seras, are we?«

* * *

Morning passed, and Alucard kept drifting in and out of consciousness.

Stuck in the grey mists between waking and sleeping, he repeatedly cursed Anderson and the priest's blades. Thus, the Hellsing team learned that he'd had another run-in with the paladin. Integra grimly smoked her cigar and Walter took down notes: This probably accounted for the deep cut in his patient's hand.

Next, they learned, that he'd fed on a woman, who called herself „Ann", and that it had been a... quite peculiar experience.

Walter anxiously watched the dark clouds gather on Sir Integra's brow and he tried to speak up for the vampire: »He is delirious, Sir Integra. I am sure, if he were awake, his story would, er, sound less explicit...«

Integra just shook her head: Her main concern right now was not about the revelation of some more or less juicy details, but what her vampire could unintentionally give away, if, in his confused state, he called out for her like he had done before...

_Well, speaking about making a plunge..._

»Walter, Seras, please leave us alone«, Integra ordered.

»But - «

»Walter!«

»As you wish, Sir!« Walter shooed Seras to go in front of him.

Integra watched, until the door was closed behind them. Of course, they would stay right in the corridor, just in case they were needed.

That was good enough.

Integra took off her jacket, loosened her tie and undid the top buttons of her shirt. As she slipped onto the bed and climbed over the unconscious vampire, she smiled grimly: She had only sat on Alucard like this two or three times before. She had been a child then, and the gesture was meant to convey her dominance over him. She'd try to intimidate him with words and, of course, fail completey. She'd wave a gun in Alucard's face, which he would easily deflect towards the wall or the ceiling. She'd be enraged at him, at his casual manner and lack of effort. She'd drop the gun and try to throttle him. Shake him. Hop and bob on his ribs, just to make him uncomfortable.

He would only laugh.

It was on one of these occasions, that a secret game was developed.

She had been learning Spanish and used it on him. He'd fallen apart: »Say that again!«, he had begged, his eyes tinted red with tears of laughter. »It sounded almost like my name.« She'd blown off his head, repeating the word, and when he'd come back to life, he had named her in return.

It turned out a code, a very private way of communicating, and it was only between the two of them.

Integra willed herself to push aside the thought of the phantom, called Ann.

_Okay, so this woman knew, how to flaunt her maiden blood's charm?_

_Big deal with a hungry vampire._

But could she do this?

»Hear me«, Integra pleaded softly, her lips brushing the pitch-black hair of the creature between her thighs. »_Alocando!_«

She touched his hair, she repeated her call, carefully blending concern with the master's prerogative to demand obedience, and somehow, her intensity seemed to reach him: Alucard's eyes fluttered, his lips parted. Integra smiled, as she heard him whisper the name, he'd given her in return to being accused of driving her insane: »Missy Got-a-Gun?«

He was not laughing at her Spanish now, and neither did she blow off his head, as she'd done then. He was struggling to come fully around and she remained, where she was: kneeling over him, with her tie loosened and her shirt hanging partly open. The effort was not wasted: There was a man hidden within the monster, and that man obviously liked the view from down there, once it had caught his attention.

»This sure beats Walter looming over my open coffin...« Alucard's eyes had cleared quickly. Now, they started to glint. The problem was, they were glinting brown. A reddish brown, if one wanted to be nit-picking, but a perfectly ordinary color with humans, nevertheless. »Master? What's the occasion?«

Seeing him awake and obviously going to stay that way, Integra climbed off, straightened her tie and rebuttoned her shirt: »You've regained consciousness before. You just wouldn't hang on to it. So I decided to give you something interesting to look at, while you were catching up. How's your blood pressure now?«

His mischievous grin faded: »My what?«

By way of demonstrating the inexplicable, Integra took his left hand and placed his fingers on his jugular vein. His eyes opened wide: »What is that?«

»Your heart. It's beating.«

Alucard looked like she was talking some strange dialect from a forgotten part of the world.

Integra tried again: »Alucard! Whatever happened to you, you're no longer nosferatu. Look here!«

She reached out and pulled off the adhesive thermometer, Walter had put on his patient's brow.

Alucard stared at the display, then at Integra.

As she had not properly looked at the device, before showing it to him, she twisted her wrist by 180 degrees and read.

»Oh – oh dear«, she said, not very diplomatically. »I really assumed, we'd have the physiological reactions under control by now. Well, I hope Walter will know, what to do.«

Alucard looked at her, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't get his mouth to work.

»Alucard? Are you hanging on?« Integra fished a cloth out of a bowl with water and shoved it at him. »Holding your breath may not be a good idea... here, splash your face. It will help.«

Alucard grabbed the entire bowl and tipped it over his head: »Aagh! Cold!«

»Gotta work on that respiratory reflex«, Integra muttered. »Walter? It's alright! You may come in!«

Walter entered and froze, his hand on the door knob: »Oh dear!«

Seras pushed past the butler and stopped dead: »Oh, master! Oh, Go - for goodness' sake!«

Alucard was busy wiping away the soaked black hair that was plastered to his head, face and eyes. Hearing Seras' anxious scream, he held the strands up with both hands like he was lifting a veil, and stared back at the draculina, daring her to verbally add the final straw to this haystack of insanity.

»Walter, could you please get us some towels?« Integra asked. »And aspirin?«

»Certainly, Sir Integra. Seras, would you please help me gather up those ice-cubes, before _someone_ slips and breaks his delicate mortal neck?« Walter asked diplomatically.

»What happened to his eyes? Oh no. I believe, I'm going to freak out!«, Seras announced weakly, but she obediently started to chase after the slippery objects: »Did you really dump ice-water on my master, Sir Integra?«

»No, I didn't, Seras, please, get a grip on yourself! Walter – Alucard has developed a fever. Do you think it might be something serious?«

»Who could say for sure? A fivehundred-year-old body, come back to life, might - «

»It is sort of entertaining to listen to the three of you, especially you, police girl. But you can talk to me directly. I'm not dead!«, Alucard said.

Three pairs of eyes turned his direction.

»_That is the problem!_«, Integra and Walter said in unison.

»My poor master!« Seras put the bowl containing the ice-cubes on his bedside table and proceeded to sit on his bed. She regarded him affecionately and maybe, just maybe a tiny bit possessively. She inched closer, her eyes glazing over like a kitten smelling cream: »Mmmh! You're so warm, master...«

Alucard grabbed a handful of ice-cubes and, keeping a straight face, shoved them into her shirt.

Seras was off his bed in a flash, screaming, hopping and trying to rip off her shirt, without – well, without ripping off her shirt in front of everybody.

Catching a mocking glance from her vampire, Integra knew, he was completely back in his senses. He teased her with his smile, hoping to make her blush at the thought, that Seras' underware was not the first bra he'd got to see within ten minutes's time.

Very composed, Integra produced and lit another cigar.

One day, those little games were going to kill her, she just knew it.

»Stop that!«, she said, addressing everyone in the room. »Let's hear the full story, Alucard. And then, we'll decide, how to proceed.«

*** End of Chaper 2 ***

A/N: Okay, folks, that's it for today. It's going to be a long day for our favorite characters, though. I should know, I'm looking back at it from, well, about late evening and especially Integra is entreating me, whether she could _please_ have a door to lock behind her, and a nice, big cushion to pull over her head? You don't understand? Just keep reading...

By the way, "alocar a alguien" really is Spanish, meaning "to drive someone crazy". Some things just fit the bill.


	3. Chapter 3

Hi, there again. Hope, you had a wonderful weekend.

BulletsForValentine: Thanks for reviewing! I, too, like the Spanish part. When I found out, the word existed, I must've stared at my monitor for about five minutes, thinking something like "There is a Spirit of Fiction-writing, I just know it; and he is looking my way. Again." :)

By the way, this is not going to be a novel, even if you might suspect it, judging from the length of my chapters. I'm just "feeding" you bigger portions, because I think it is more fun to read. We are about 2-3 pages short of centerfold. So, if you want to review, please go ahead (and I do mean, like "Please?") And if you don't like the story, you can sleep peacefully, knowing that it will stop popping up at the top of the list, before long. ;)

As before, I would like to state, that I own neither Hellsing nor any of the characters and I'm not making money from this.

* * *

The meeting had ended in an unsatisfactory way, to say the least. Alucard's explanation of the recent events would hardly have filled a pistachio, if one had bothered putting it in a nutshell: »I drained a maiden, who claimed to be a witch. She should have been changed, but she wasn't. Instead, she changed me.« Everybody kept staring at him as if they expected this to be the opening to a three-volume-edition of Stoker's writings („newly annotated and re-edited by The Monster itself"). So, he added: »That's all.«

The natural thing to do, of course, was to try and talk to the witch. Seras Victoria was assigned the task. Sir Integra went to do some research on the matter in her father's library.

Walter had some household duties to see to and everyone assumed, Alucard would stay in bed to get some more rest.

Naturally, he didn't.

As soon as he was left alone, he climbed out of the bed. His cloak and hat would not return to him by means of telekinesis, so he gathered them. He put on the shades, but quickly discovered that wearing them added an uncomfortable yellow tint to the general dusk that seemed to impair his vision.

The Casull was a problem, because of its weight. He cradled it in the crook of his right elbow and sneaked out of the ward.

By the time, he reached his room in the cellar, he had found out that he could no longer phase through walls, nor climb them. He could not sense the staff in the corridors, nor smell them, nor could he be sure, he truly heard everything there was.

Worst of all, he had no idea, where Sir Integra was or what she was doing. If she was even alive.

_Now, don't you get paranoid_, he told himself. _What could possibly have happened on the way from the ward to her study?_

Except breaking her delicate mortal neck by tripping on the stairs or some inexplicable, tragic accident, of course.

Not to mention that from now on such things might happen to him, as well. Not to mention that he was in the habit of actively seeking and attracting such things...

What had the police girl said earlier? »I believe, I am going to freak out!«

Alucard stood in the dark of his cellar. No candle would bend to his will and ignite.

»I believe«, he murmured to himself, as he walked around, using a match. »Yes, police girl, I do believe, I'm going to freak out, too! Ow! Argh!«

Shaking his singed hand, he sat in his armchair.

So, it was dark, it was silent, it was lonely and it was cold.

He tried to call on his familiars. Bats. Wolves. Caterpillars. Anything.

Not a single red eye would lazily blink at him out of the dark.

_Lord of Flies, he felt miserable!_

Last night's bottle of blood was untouched. Alucard was willing to give it a try. If the blood was still the same, things might not be so unbelievably insane, after all.

Yes, he knew the metallic taste. But he could not distinguish any other facet of the otherwise so rich flavour. He did not even know if the blood had been donated by a man or a woman. Young? Old? Sick? Pregnant? Starved? An addict to sugar, fat, alcohol, caffeine? A happy, manic, angry or depressed character? For the fist time in over five centuries, Alucard had no idea. And he could not keep it down. It was upsetting his stomach, to the point of sickening him.

Snarling with frustration, Alucard smashed both, the goblet and the bottle.

Now, the blood was on the floor, but neither could he order it to pool properly, nor sponge it up, if it did.

»Welcome to your brand-new life. Lots of fun, no tedium. New things to learn at every turn. Great. I'm rhyming to myself.« He looked around. »I need a mop.«

A big, hairy, four-legged figure emerged from the shadows leading to the stairs. It trotted forward and tentatively touched its muzzle to the pooling blood. Snorting disdainfully, it backed away and started wandering along the walls to check for more attractive smells.

»Well, what do you know!« Alucard collapsed in his chair, leaned his forehead on his hand and made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob: »I summon a mop, and here it is!«

* * *

Of course, the Hellsing mansion gardener's German shepherd dog, whose name was as simply as aptly „Stockman", would not be used to mop up blood. He even added to the mess, when he padded across the room to the vampire's chair, and cut his paw on one of the shards littering the floor.

Thus, on descending into the cellar, Walter met Alucard crouched on the stone floor, using a piece of the table cloth to bind Stockman's paw and swearing to himself.

»Your proficiency in ancient languages has not suffered, I take it«, Walter said, stooping to have a closer look at Alucard's work. »That was an expert blend of Latin, sixteenth century French, Turkish, German, and some of your own homecountry's vernaculars, if you ask me.«

Alucard bowed his head, so his hair covered most of his face, except for the ferociously drawn back lips, revealing the set of very white teeth.

»Oh my. You're not in a social mood.« Walter appeared dutifully bewildered. »What is Stockman doing here? Have you been able to - ?«

»I have no idea. I've tried to summon about every single soul in a two-mile-radius that I know of. I've tried to get in contact with _you_. If you want to do me a favour, tell me, you're here, because a strange urge to visit the cellars has befallen you.«

»I am very sorry, but, no, I could not claim that an inexplicable impulse whatsoever can account for my coming here. For you see, there was this phone call - «

»So, maybe Stockman received my thoughts, after all. And maybe, he just passed by, when he heard me scream and break all that glass. It doesn't matter. He's no familiar, he's a sissy. He would not even attack on my mark.«

»So, if I just might inform you that – what do you mean, he would not attack?«

Alucard ruffled the dog's thick fur: »You recognise Wallachian vernacular, when you hear it. But you don't really understand it, Walter, do you?«

Walter was silent, then he said: »I see. Your pattern of volatile behaviour has obviously shifted from „variably violent" to „experimentally murderous".«

Alucard glowered at him: »Have you come to psychoanalyse me or clean away this mess or is there a good reason, after all? What was that about a phone call?«

»Ah yes. I've been trying to tell you. It seems, Maxwell and Anderson are on their way here.«

»Anderson is coming here?« Alucard was on his feet so quickly, he scared Stockman and startled Walter into taking a well-measured step back. »Walter, hurry, I need your help.«

Walter adjusted his glasses: »To clean away this mess or psychoanalyse any good reasons, you think, you might have?«

»_Walter!_« Alucard nearly jumped at the butler, then got himself under control.

»There's only one familiar left to me«, he said, breathing deeply. »I need you to assist me in making it useful again.«

* * *

Integra took her time, deliberately letting her „guests" wait. Finally, however, there was no more phone call to make, no more orders to give out, and tea-time was approaching. She had no intention of inviting them to her table and waste her expensive, imported Ceylon selection on their foreign ignorance.

_No English pearls for these swine._

- The silver-haired alpha swine entered Integra's study with a grin that almost beat Alucard at smugness.

»Sir Integra! How very nice to meet you!« Maxwell, the head of the Iscariot organisation, held out his hand. Integra was sure, he'd be shocked, if she accepted it. But she could not bring herself to give it a try, not even for sports. The signal would be just too strong.

»This is not a goodwill visit to exchange pleasantries, so let's not pretend it is«, she said. »What do you want?«

Maxwell motioned at an armchair in front of her desk: »Can I - ?«

»Please. Have a seat«, Integra grit her teeth. »You, too, Anderson.«

»Thank you. I prefer to stand«, the paladin said politely.

»But not beside my door, like you're my bodyguard or – lurking for someone to decapitate at entering!«

»Come here, Anderson!« Maxwell waved his index finger, and grudgingly, the paladin joined him more closely to the desk.

»I should apologise for his behaviour - «, Maxwell said.

» - then do so. I'm all ears!«, Integra threw in.

» - but he's had another encounter with your vampire pet, Alucard, last night. As it apparently was quite a fight, I thought, we should talk and – settle this matter, if possible.«

»What are you talking about, settling this matter? Alucard is a servant of the Hellsing organisation. And Anderson, obviously, is not going to quit serving your sick purposes, either. So, how do you think, we could settle anything?«

»Well, I hoped, after last night, things would be ... changed.«

Integra felt a strong impulse to scream something in the way of »What do you know about that?«

However, she controlled herself, hoping that her pounding heart would not betray her:

»Changed?«, she asked, as levelly as possible.

»Come, come, don't play games with me!« Maxwell furrowed his brow, as if a thought had just occurred to him: »Where is Alucard, anyway? You faithful watch dog would not let you face me alone. He has returned to the Hellsing mansion, hasn't he?«

»He did«, Anderson confirmed, sounding like a wolf growling. »He escaped. The vile monster took the demon's way out and phased through the wall. The witch woman's heathen seal has not - «

»_Anderson! Silence!_« Maxwell literally jumped and drove his fist onto the armrest of his chair.

_Well, well – look, who's betraying himself, now._

_A heathen seal, indeed!_

Integra leaned on her elbows and folded her hands, smiling enigmatically.

»We came to see Alucard!« Maxwell said, finally dropping the mask of politeness. »Sir Integra, I require to have a word with your servant. Now.«

»Well, first, _I_ require some answers from _your_ servant. Pater Anderson, what was that about a „witch woman", and why - «

»Pater Anderson is not under the obligation to report to you!« Maxwell cut in hotly.

Integra was as close to laughing out loud as her pride would allow: »You can hardly expect me to „settle matters", if you don't give me some information about what's the issue.«

»I will demonstrate the issue, if you just have this mummy of a butler call your gun-crazed zombie Little-Red-Riding-Hood to this room, now!«

»Watch your tongue, Maxwell«, a dark voice said. »Cat may eat it.«

»Alucard!« Integra whispered, ever so softly.

Unnoticed by everyone, the vampire had slipped in just in time to witness Maxwell's outburst. He wore his full attire, red cloak, red fedora, yellow glasses – and a sardonic grin that intensified, as he observed the reactions to his entrance.

Especially Maxwell looked like he was seeing a ghost. He pushed against the back of his seat and even made a small, betraying move, as if to raise his hand to his throat.

Alucard strutted into the room, casually swinging his Casull in his right hand.

He passed by Maxwell, who all but scrambled from his chair to evade being at arm's length with the vampire; and he passed by Anderson, whose eyes followed him like the stare of a predator, scenting for the weakness in his prey.

Alucard bowed in front of Sir Integra: »Sorry for being late, my master. Couldn't find my goggles.«

»It is good to see, you have retrieved them. The sun is really blazing today«, Integra said, just for the sake of saying anything, while she tried to interpret the signals, his eyes were giving.

_The door._

_Make them leave._

Yes. That was just, what she was thinking.

Meanwhile, the enemy had recovered from their surprise, too.

»Are you still a fighter, monster?« Anderson produced two blades, crossing them at right angles in front of his face.

»Your witch was a monster, Anderson. I keep telling you: It takes a human to kill me!« Alucard turned and raised the Casull. The bystanders heard the click of the safety being removed. His arm outstretched, Alucard brought the heavy weapon in line with Anderson's head.

»No-one«, Integra said with icy emphasis, »is going to run a rampage in my private study! Maxwell! I'll have you answer for this!«

»Anderson! I order you to desist!« Maxwell said quickly.

Neither combatant moved.

»This is enough!« Integra exploded. »Maxwell! How dare you enter my house and threaten my people like this? I must ask you to leave at once!«

»Sir Integra, I want you to understand -«

»I want you off my premises! Now!« She drew her own weapon, aiming it at Maxwell. She knew, to threaten him like this carried the seed for a major scandal in itself - not to mention the overkill on the practical side, if she wasted a blessed bullet to beat the holy crap out of this jerk. But Alucard's request required her to take desperate measures, since precious seconds continued to tick by.

Maxwell raised his hands, as if he were facing a robber about to demand his wallet, instead of a determined fellow organisation leader protecting her property: »Now, this is hardly a way to communicate among gentlefolk!«

»It is my way of telling you that communications are over!«

»You would not kill an official member of the Vatican!«

»That is certainly true. I'll order Alucard to spare your life.«

Alucard's grin widened to its notorious psycho dimensions: »You'd be surprised, what you can live through«, he offered cheerfully.

It was clear, that Maxwell was not overly curious to explore the extent of his capability of survival and was desperately looking for a dignified way to get out of the line of fire, both literally and metaphorically.

»If the gentlemen would please follow me?« Walter's silken voice cut through the air of hostility. »I believe, Sir Integra has called this meeting at an end. I will make sure, the gentlemen will not get lost on their way out. This is a vast mansion.«

Maxwell composed himself, snorted and marched towards the door.

When his boss had passed, Anderson backed off, securing their retreat. Alucard watched him over the barrel of the Casull. He appeared so motionless that Integra nearly mistook him for being undead again. Then, looking closely, she could see him panting in quick, shallow gasps through his slightly parted teeth.

Trying hard to keep up the illusion of not breathing at all.

_Better make this quick, indeed! _

»Maxwell? I hope, we've been able to settle your issue?« she called. Maxwell slammed the door, just as she had hoped, he would.

Alucard grinned, holding his stance, as if he expected Anderson to re-enter: »Thanks for speeding this up. - Whew. I feel woozy.«

»You know, Alucard, watching you gradually makes me think that breathing is a rare art, which we inborn humans just don't appreciate at its true complexity«, Integra deadpanned. »How. On. Earth. Did you manage to hold that gun as long as you did?«

Alucard had not moved: »Actually, I could use a little help at letting go of it.«

Suspiciously, Integra circled him to discover the secret of his stiffly raised arm. She found a thin metal pole attached to the Casulls butt-end. It was hidden on the inside of Alucard's wrist and disappeared in his sleeve.

»A makeshift brace, using tent poles, an old umbrella and a whole bunch of Walter's fighting wires«, Alucard explained. »A little adventurous, since I did not have time to try it out. I already found the first catch: Once the shoulder reinforcement is latched, it won't come free again.«

»What would you have done, if Anderson had forced you to fire this monster? The recoil could probably rip off your arm.« Integra was working at the clip that secured the heavy gun to the metal support.

»The only way, Anderson could have made me pull the trigger was by attacking me. In my present condition, I would not stand a chance against his blades, anyway, so the Casull's recoil was not really the point. I was gambling at high stakes.«

»You played your hand brilliantly. You fooled us all.«

»The idea is old, master. I remember getting badly wounded in battle once. My officers strapped a pole to my back to make me look like I could still sit upright in the saddle. It killed me, I tell you! Every single step of the damned horse was torture. But the effect on my enemy's troops was worth it.« Alucard gingerly moved his shoulder. »Guess, what purpose the pole was submitted to, afterwards?«

»Spare me! – Seras Victoria called in. She has found the witches house, but Ann is not in. There was, however, a note from her, stating that anyone seeking advice should return around midnight, since she was running a professional errand.«

»Practical girl«, Alucard mused.

»As there is no reason to believe otherwise, I assigned Seras to wait. Just in case the witch returns earlier. In the meantime, you and I are going out for dinner.«

»Dinner, master?«

»At Sir Witherspoon's mansion.«

»The self-proclaimed expert on occultism? Special interest in seals and bans?«

»That's the man«, Integra confirmed.

»Sir Witherspoon, who fears for his life every Friday night between seven and eleven p. m., ever since a certain incantation blew up in his face? He's been throwing a party every weekend for years.«

»No, he just carefully avoids spending the Friday evening hours alone. He engaged guards. And he would like to engage the Hellsing organisation as well.«

»I see. Now, your point would be...?«

»Anderson talked too much«, Integra said. »He mentioned a „heathen seal", Ann was supposed to place on you. It appears, Maxwell came to check, if it is working properly. Anderson is in doubt, since he's seen you phase through a wall, before the spell had taken full hold.«

»Idiot! He was an inch close to having to carve me out of those bricks.«

»He isn't aware of it, and after the impressive show, you staged ten minutes ago, he will believe even less that their plan worked out. I have no idea, if that is good or bad for us. Let's go and talk to the expert. Let's see, if Sir Witherspoon has some infomation of value for us.«

***End of Chapter 3***

* * *

Once more, that's it for today. Hope, you enjoyed. Let's leave Sir Integra to her well-earned tea, Seras Victoria to waiting for Ann and Alucard to finding out some more about the pitfalls of his new existence. See you at Sir Witherspoon's! Take care!


	4. Chapter 4

No comments for Chapter 3 - oh well, I guess, there are still people out there, reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing and I do not own the characters. I do not make money with this. The characters and locations from Nordic myth obviously are not mine, either. I don't know, who's owning them now, but it sure is not me.

* * *

** Chapter 4**

There was a moment of truth for Alucard. When he found himself on his knees, trying to keep Walter's gleaming wires away from his throat, he knew, that he was defeated in more than one way.

The recognition that Walter was holding his very life between his fingers hit him full force. _He was a puppet on strings._ The metaphor was so devastating that Alucard hardly felt the wire cut into the flesh of his hand, and he did not - could not - give a damn, either. He just wanted that stuff off! He wanted it all off, gone, over and undone, every moment of the last eighteen hours! Now! He tore with his hands and tried to severe the wire with his teeth.

»Alucard! Easy! You'll hurt your- « Walter immediately released his grip, but the damage was already done. Alucard cradled his hand and spat blood to the floor.

»I'm sorry, Alucard. But you should have known better!« Walter collected his wires by looping them around his left arm. »Are you all right?«

»I wanted to find out about my fighting abilities, not get myself strangled!« Alucard lisped furiously. Gingerly, he probed the inside of his gums with his tongue. He probably owed it to Walter's quick reaction that he had not lost a tooth - or cut his jaw in half. »Well? Your opinion?«

»You certainly are quick«¸ Walter said without hesitation. »Your body control is remarkable. You're in good shape. But your strength definitely lies in the defensive.«

»What do you mean by that?«

» You've got a true fighter's instinct. You seemed to foresee each of my moves. But look what happened, when you attacked me in return! You get careless. You still act, like nothing's going to hurt or stop you.«

»I understand. Your advice...?«

»No more catching bullets with your teeth«, Walter said in great earnest. Alucard half expected him to raise a finger. »No more games of ‚you-kill-me-first-then-I'll-show-you'. If you need to get on a roof, you'll use a ladder, and if you want to get down, you'd better look before you leap.«

»That is all?«, Alucard asked sarcastically.

»It may be all the fine line between staying alive and getting yourself killed.«

»There is no line. I'm going to die«, Alucard said with almost eerie calm. He still tasted metal and watched his crimson blood drop from the cut in his hand. »I'm a demon caught in this restricted body, and I am going to die in it...«

»Now, now, it's unlike yourself to give up so quickly...«, Walter said.

»I'm not giving up. I simply stated what being mortal is all about. Maybe, you've gotten used to the facts by now. But I need to keep reminding myself«, Alucard said. »Will you excuse me? I have to patch myself up! Maybe see a dentist.«

Sadly sucking the wound in his hand, he gathered up his hat and left the gym.

»Oh dear«, Walter said.

* * *

Seras had been waiting patiently for hours, as Sir Integra had told her. Ann's door had been open, so the draculina went in and sat down on the bed. When the light outside started to wane, a black cat had appeared and, meowing and rubbing aginst Seras' leg, offered to pass the time together. Seras creased up her glove, fixing it with a long, thin leather strap to move the little ball around. Soon, they were playing happily. Seras moved the string and the cat tried to hold the makeshift toy with the front claws and kick it with the hind legs.

Suddenly, the cat stopped playing and spat, turning toward the door. Feeling the hair on the back of her neck rise, Seras got up and peeped out of the window: »Oh no! Anderson!«

The paladin appraoched the door at a determined gait. At first, Seras thought, he was coming for her. Then, she noticed, that he was not holding bayonets in his fists. So, he was not preparing for an immediate attack.

He stopped in front of the door, probably reading the note, stating that the witch would not be back before midnight. Seras counted her blessings that she had neither taken down the slip of paper, nor lit a lamp. The first was buying her precious seconds, the latter would have betrayed her at once. But she simply had not thought of it, since neither she not the cat needed extra light.

She could see the slender feline move elegantly away from her now and behin a red curtain. The cat seemed to want her to follow.

Seras slipped behind the red curtain that seperated a corner of the room from the main living area. There was a wash basin and a shelf with towels, a basket with some laundry, a dried starfish, the skull of an oystercatcher with the stump of a candle on top and pictures of beautiful beaches adoring the wall.

There also was a little window. It seemed too small, but with Anderson now entering at the other side of the room, Seras decided to give it a try. The cat had already escaped.

Seras squeezed herself through the window frame, wishing not for the first time that her upper body had been a little less endowed... The first thing catching her eye, when she stood in the backyard and straightened her shirt, was a tree. A really big tree. It had a gnarled trunk and high limbs with light green leaves. It was higher than the surrounding buildings and it filled the air with a smell of spring time and blossoms, warm air and moist earth...

There was no such tree in the middle of London, Seras simply knew, she had to be dreaming.

And in the dream tree a dream door was opened from within to let the cat in, that had been rubbing against the bark. Light fell on the dirty ground of the backyard and a woman's head appeared in the opening. She looked at Seras and waved at her: »Quick, girl! Over here!«

* * *

Integra and Alucard reached Sir Witherspoon's mansion shortly before dinner commenced. All in all, thirteen guests had arrived. It was the exact number of companions, Sir Witherspoon needed to avert the occult threat, which he believed to have brought over his head, when one of his rituals had gone horribly wrong.

Since it was essential to have that number of persons spend the night under his roof, he had turned a wing of his mansion into a high class hotel and opened his park-like estate for them to enjoy the evening. An Egyptian obelisk marked the centre of the premises and served as the needle of a large sun-dial. There were plants from all continents and artworks of all the corners of the world, Sir Witherspoon had once gone treasure-hunting in.

But he was no longer young, in fact, Integra was surprised to see the withered, bent figure go around and welcome tonight's visitors. She had met him before and remembered him as an elegant, tall man, whose dark hair was beaded silver and who talked in an urbane way that did not admit contradiction. Now, Sir Witherspoon was clad in black, his short hair was amazingly white and his eyes disturbingly pale blue. He leaned his fragile-looking frame on a heavy stick with silver studs, as he enjoyed the conversation.

He did not come over to talk to Integra and Alucard.

However, he did send his butler to summon Integra to the study. Only Sir Integra, as was expressed clearly, when Alucard quite naturally moved to come along.

»It's all right«, Integra told her vampire, lowering her voice. »I don't think, it's something personal. He is a paranoid eccentric.«

»He's an old crock, feeling like the Sun King himself, when in fact, he's shrivelled up like a slug, sun-baked and with lots of salt on it«, Alucard said acidly. He had hardly spoken a word, since they got into the car together. She had left him alone, since Walter had already pointed out that Alucard might need some time on his own to cope with the events of this day.

She didn't want to leave him alone now: »I won't be long.«

But he simply said: »I understand«, and wandered off towards the buffet.

Integra wished that his black mood was just a symptom of his being hungry in a very human way.

* * *

The butler led Integra into Sir Witherspoon's private study. It was a stuffy room that somehow gave the impression of being older than the mansion itself. Bookshelves filled the walls from floor to ceiling. Thick velvet curtains covered the two high windows. There was a cold fireplace and five velvet armchairs.

The butler asked her to sit in one of them and make herself comfortable. Sir Witherspoon would be with her in a second.

But it took about ten minutes for the old man to actually appear. He met her with a smile and his hands outstretched: »Sir Integra, it is a pleasure to have you as my guest tonight. I apologise for having kept you waiting.«

»The pleasure is all mine, Sir Witherspoon. Thank you for keeping up your invitation.«

»You're welcome. I knew, there would come a day, when I could be of assistance again.«

Integra raised her eyebrows: »Again? I certainly never asked for your assistance before?«

»Is it or is it not your familiy heritage vampire out there, watching my guests with those strange eyes of his? I did not see their red lustre, but I've noticed the gloves.«

»How do you know about the gloves?«

»I was there, when they were put on. Well, that is not exactly true. I've never seen the creature myself and neither has it seen me. I wanted it this way and I still would not want to make its acquaintance. You see, I was the one, who counselled your father on how to treat and keep it. Oh, by the way: It is all right for you to smoke. Please.«

Integra selected a cigar from the box, he was offering her, and accepted his light: »I should have guessed. Someone of your reputation in the field of the occult surely would have access to my father's inner circle.«

»Well, to be honest, your father's vampire was a significant and intrigueing object of study. - So, now he's back, drinking champagne and eating roasted chicken from my buffet. He should not be able to do that.«

Integra inwardly relaxed a bit as the old man ceased refering to Alucard as an „it": »He is - since last night, to be precise.«

That news immediately caught Sir Witherspoon's interest: »What happened last night?«

»He drank the blood of a woman, who called herself a witch. She said, it would heal him. Since then, his body has come alive.«

Sir Witherspoon became animated at once: »That is amazing! You have just described an operative Seal of Sculd! Who, did you say, was that woman, who applied it?«

»I do not know her full name«, Integra said, fully aware that she had not mentioned any name. »The Seal of Sculd? I never heard about that. What can you tell me about it?«

»It is not common, even among practitioners of the occult. It traditionally takes a virgin woman to cast the spell. And for the spell to take permanent hold, there has to be one thing that most occultists lack.«

»That is? «

Witherspoon eyed her warily: »Compassion for the monster.«

There was a short silence. Integra lit herself another cigar.

»The story goes back to Nordic saga«, Sir Witherspoon said. »Sculd is the youngest of the three norns – goddesses of fate, who dwell under the roots of the ash-tree Yggdrasil. At the shores of the well of Urda, they watch over every creature's life. The story tells, that a man came to their place to meet his fate. He had bartered off his soul to Loki, the trickster god, for immortality. But it was only when he was waylaid and badly hurt that he found out about the dark side of the trade: He would not heal and yet, he could not die. He was condemned to pain everlasting, the point of death stretching out into infinity. Sculd felt pity for the mage, and she went to see Loki and asked him to set the man's soul free. The trickster demanded her maidenhood in return for the secret. He has a way with both, words and women, so she agreed. When Sculd returned to the well of Urda, Loki, the shape-shifter and transformer of things, had put the magic in her blood, and when she gave it to the wounded man, his mortality was restored. And the story tells, that at the first beat of his living heart, she took her own walkyre sword and beheaded him. And then she went and gave Loki, what was his due.«

Integra's face betrayed her scepticism: »Why would she kill him?«

»Maybe, because she already regretted the deal? No. I believe, she did it, because she saw, that death was, what he truly longed for.« Sie Witherspoon looked at his bony hand. »Immortality is a boon of gods, not meant for humans.«

Integra had no intention to enter a philosphical debate on the disadvantages of old age: »Let's assume, there was a witch and she applied the Seal of Sculd on Alucard. How does one break it, and would I, being his master, be able to do so?«

»That is not so easy to say. You'd probably need to be prepared.«

Integra smiled smugly: »Do I have to decapitate him?«

»You haven't listen to the story«, Sir Witherspoon said, looking sly: »A more appropriate question, one of many possible, is: What do you feel, when you watch Alucard feed?«

Integra sat up bolt upright: »What kind of question is that?«

»Picture him now, holding that poor woman, bending over her, her blood flowing - «

_I picture him holding the broken scull of one of my uncle's men high over his head and the blood flowing onto his tongue...he looks like a cat, a malicious, grinning, white-haired cat._

Sir Witherspoon watched her with an almost lurking expression: »When he goes around, killing monsters and humans alike, as you order him to«, he whispered. »Tell me Integra: Do you - possibly, just possibly - enjoy it? Does he know, how you feel about your power to command him?«

»Sir Witherspoon, this is an outrage and I consider this conversation at an end!« Integra nearly toppled over the heavy armchair. Her face was flushed with anger.

»Wait, Integra!«

»That's Sir Integra for you. And I will not answer any of your impudent questions! Good night!«

Integra all but fled from the study, ignoring the butler, who'd patiently waited to see her back to the dining room.

»O, Hellsing, my dear old friend«, Sir Witherspoon sighed. »I told you, this creature's manipulative powers were too great to let it live. I had it all ready, the Holy Water, the blessed silver – why would you not listen to me? Now, see, what has stemmed from this.« He rang for his butler. »Winston. As soon as my immediate obligations as a host are over, have the car ready. I need to make a phone call.«

»As you wish, Sir. But may I remind you once again that there are telephones in the house? They have been for quite some time, in fact. You do not have to drive down to Rosary Chapel to use theirs.«

»Then may I remind you once again of my unswerving opinion that telephones have been invented and are worked by the devil. Until convinced otherwise, I will not hold my ear to any such device that has not been blessed and purified by sacred water, lest I might hear his insinuations. The car, Winston. The car. At nine sharp.«

Winston bowed: »Very well, Sir Witherspoon.«

* * *

»Ohshitohshitohshit!« Crossing the yard to reach the safety of the dream tree, Seras zig-zagged wildly, dodging the blades that whizzed past. Anderson flung them through the small window, so fortunately, his aim was impaired. He still managed to get one blade into Seras' back, and she just let herself fall forward with the momentum. The woman caught her and pulled her in. The tree closed behind them.

Anderson, who had to take the long way around, found no trace of a door. He searched the trunk, muttering to himself that the heavenly gates would open wide for those striving and seeking with an unflinching mind.

A squirrel was watching him from above.

»Filthy witch! Sacrilegious plant! You're reaching for heaven, but your roots are drawing from the deepest pits of the netherworlds...« Finding his prayers and threats defied, Anderson drove a bayonet into the wood.

The squirrel made a giggling sound.

»What hellish swamp have you crawled forth from, vile creature?« Anderson threw some blades, but the squirrel simply climbed into higher branches. It dropped a nut on his head.

Anderson turned back to the invisible door: »Shameless whore, whose sole payment is mortal sin and eternal doom! Open at once! In the name of the Lord!« He pressed his silver cross against the trunk, and was surprised, when an entrance opened.

Warily, he stepped into the darkness, that was not so dark, after all: A golden light seemed to emanate from the wooden walls. There were stairs in front of him, leading downward. Anderson hefted his bayonets and started to descend into the earth.

* * *

_**End of Chapter 4 **_

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* * *

_

A/N: So, that's it for today. There really is a norn/walkyre by the name of Sculd in Nordic myths, who lives at the roots of the great ash-tree Yggdrasil (the same tree, that will protect the few survivors of ragnarok in the caverns under its roots, due to the myth), and Loki, of course, is one of the Aesir. The story, Sir Witherspoon tells Integra, was completely made up by me, though. For those of you, who've seen the Hellsing OVA - there are some references in the text. I like the OVAs better than the TV series, not for the violence or over-all story, but because there is something like an operative team structure between Integra, Walter, Alucard and, lateron, Seras Victoria, that I like to watch and did not detect so easily in the series. And - you guessed - I just love Alucard's phone calls to Integra and her reaction to his suggestive questions )

Hope, you enjoyed, and if you did, please be back for chapter 5.


	5. Chapter 5

Hello. I'm back from vacation. Did anyone, by chance, miss my updates? Getting visitors but no reviews feels sort of uncanny. (Could anyone enjoying this story perhaps just lift their head, go "Yep!", and get back to reading? I mean - that would at least let me know, you _like_ it :) )

I don't own Hellsing or its characters and I do not make money by this.

+++Chapter 5+++

Seras found herself sitting on a wooden floor, and she knew she had to be inside the tree. She also knew, Pater Anderson was somewhere near – she could hear him rant, then his boots clicked, as if he were walking forward. But if he had discovered an entrance, it had to be a different one, because he did not pass her, not even close.

_Just how big was that tree that could impossibly exist, anyway?_

»He's gone«, Seras' companion, the red-haired woman, said.

Seras squinted to get a better look at her rescuer: »Excuse me, but – are you Ann?«

»You may use that name for now«, the witch said, examining the bayonet in Seras' back. »This is déjà vu. Just the other night I was visited by a vampire, who also had a bayonet stuck in his ribs.«

»He's my master.« Seras flinched, as the blade was pulled out. »His name is Alucard. I'm Seras Victoria.«

»Nice to meet you«, Ann really appeared to be pleased. »How is your master? Have you come for my gift, too?«

»Er...to be honest, he is not happy. None of us is. Please. I am sure, you meant no harm, but – my master has not been human for so long. I don't think, he can adapt. Or wants to...«, she added, hanging her head a little.

»I know«, Ann said. »It's almost funny. I lectured him on anagrams, before I had even bothered to read his name backwards. Now, it seems so obvious that I am ashamed of myself. But I was so eager to help. Maxwell introduced me to this big, blonde ape of his, and told me that this Roman ogre would be after a certain vampire that night.«

»Why did Maxwell know you?«

»Iscariot has a list with our names. I am a registered witch, so I can be sure, the only toothy monsters that come to visit me, are vampires, seeking deliverance. But this particular nosferatu, Anderson would bring to me, to cast my spell as a favour for Iscariot. Maxwell said, if I refused, his loyal fanatic would kill the bloodsucker with his blessed knifes. So, I agreed. Didn't think too much about it. After all, I've never had any complaints so far. Never heard of a former vampire wanting to re-enter the night. Well, it usually was their own choice to seek my help, it's true...«

»Will you help us take back your spell, then?« Seras asked, happy that it should be so easy.

»I cannot«, Ann said. »You see – the power has been given to me as a gift, too. But there's a woman, a young lady with long, almost white hair...?«

»Sir Integra, my master's master.«

»A lot of hierachy, you've got there. Drinking your master's blood would set you free, you know that? Ever thought about knocking him out and getting yourself a mouthful out of him? Or two?«

»Of course not!« Seras screamed.

»Well, I would«, Ann dead-panned. »I'd probably be on him with a piano, an anvil and a shotgun, like some good old cartoon character.«

»He'd laugh off his head.«

»Aye. That's when you need to tackle«, Ann said grimly.

Seras stared at her, then she giggled, imagining the scene.

»Anyway«, Ann said. »Your master's master will need to talk to the Lady Sculd about this. I'm sorry, you cannot do it. Vampires have their own access to the worlds of the occult. It does not normally involve dealing with rituals or deities. I will teach you the spell, so you can pass it on to her.«

»Wait!« Seras said. »What about Anderson?«

»Don't worry. Ancient Mother Ash is showing him the way home. Back to where his roots are.«

* * *

Integra had not really expected Alucard to seek the company of chattering humans. She had not assumed, he would wait for her in the corridor, either. But somehow, she was surprised, when he was not in her room. Then she remembered: He could not be in her room, since he could not phase through the door and she held the only keycard.

For some time, Integra sat on the sofa, waiting for Alucard to get in touch with her. When her patience wore thin, she went out on the balcony to look for light in the room next door.

She found a ladder, leading up on the roof over her room.

The roof was a flat rectangle of about ten square meters, before it started to slant upwards. The platform was like another balcony, a great place for sitting and looking down into the mansion's gardens. And sure enough, that was, where Alucard had retreated to. He looked like he was having a picnic, with a collection of items – boxes, glasses, bottles and his fedora - clustered around him.

»You're back early, master«, he greeted her, not in the least surprised that she should follow him to this lofty place.

»Where does that ladder come from?«

»I asked the mansion staff. They are well-trained lap dogs. No questions, not even queer faces. When they were gone, I used it as a gangway from my balcony to yours.« He gestured at a pile of blankets. »Please, join me. It's a beautiful night.«

Integra climbed all the way onto the roof: »Is that a cocktail?« she asked, pointing at the pear shaped glass in his hand.

»It's more of a toy«, Alucard held the straw between two fingers and looked at his drink. »It's white. And blue. If you stir it, the colours will blend. So I try to suck out all the blue stuff first.«

»It's called Blue Curacao«, Integra said and added: »You're drinking cocktails?«

»Just sucking out the Cure-A-Blue-Chow-Chow.« Alucard corrected. His straw hit bottom, making slurping noises. He lifted the glass to check. When he found, he'd run out of blue stuff, he refilled from a bottle, standing beside him. And because he needed more white stuff to suck out the blue stuff from, he also added coconut cream and vodka. »Master? Do you want some little crumbs of mouldy cheese on crackers? I've got them, too«, he offered. »I would trade some for one of your cigars.«

»You're joking, right?«

»This whole affair is a shitty – sorry, master: a sick joke. They are good, though. The... crackers.« Seeing the look on her face, his voice trailed off and he straightened up. »Well, master. What did the old slug tell you?«

Integra summed up her conversation with Sir Witherspoon, trading a cigar for cheese crackers and, without really noticing, helping herself to a handful of salt sticks. She left out the details about the rude questions, she only told Alucard, that they had been asked.

»So, there's a ritual and there's conditions«, she finally said, snapping the last two salt sticks in the middle. »But I stormed out, before he would tell me more. I'm sorry.«

»I understand«, Alucard said. But he sounded disappointed. He looked out over the parc-like garden, where the last glow of the sun made a nice backlight for the towering obelisk.

_Immortality is a boon of gods, not meant for humans, _Integra thought: »Look, Alucard, before we proceed - is it so unthinkable that you might grow to like this new life that has been given you?«

»Master, did you really have to ask that question?«, he asked, sounding perplexed. »Do you know me so little? Have you not understood, what I am, at all?«

»Well, I - «

»I'm not a human. You cannot compare me to yourself or Walter or anyone you know.«

Integra frowned: »Don't get worked up. I only want to make sure, you're not missing a chance. I would not want you to regret, what we're about to do, later.«

A ferocious look came into Alucard's eyes: »How can you – how can any mortal, who measures the span of his life by months and years – talk to me about chances?«, he spat. »What do you know about the consequences of chances given and missed? What do you know about regrets? True regrets, as they come from sins that will condemn your soul to eternal darkness?«

»I will not be spoken to - «, Integra began.

Alucard pulled off his gloves and, using his fingernails, ripped open the gash, that had been cut by Walter's wires. He turned his arm, so the blood flowed down freely: »See my blood, master? Seras Victoria was made from it. What kind of vampire would I become, if I were re-made by her? Do you wonder? Do you want to find out? For _that _is the only chance, I've been thinking about lately.«

Integra's temper rose: »Alucard! Get a grip on yourself!«

Alucard narrowed his eyes: »And do what?«, he asked with deadly calm. »Acquiesce in the knowledge that the wolf agreed to become a rabbit, just because _you_ said so? Do you think, it would work? Aren't you perhaps overrating your own powers once more like you did, when you were fourteen, Missy- «

Integra got up, covered the little distance between them and slapped Alucard across the face. Hard. »_Shut the hell up!_«

Abruptly, Alucard fell silent. He stared up at her, a hurt look on his face. His lips were slightly parted, showing his white eyeteeth. Not quite fangs, but prominent none the less.

»Now, show me that hand!« Integra took off her tie and energetically started to bandage the bleeding wound. While she was at work, she explained: »Walter warned me, something like this might happen. It's alright, if you feel helpless. It's alright, if you rant. But I want you to understand, that I will not tolerate disrespectful behaviour.«

Alucard wriggled his hand in her grasp to grab hers.

_And the trickster's charm was undone,_ Integra thought crazily, looking at his naked fingers, drying blood on warm skin. Stretching, she reached for his cocktail gear. _And the mage became mortal again, and for some reason, his saviour saw no other way than draw her sword and cut off his head..._

_Maybe the story lied. Maybe it was just an act of dominance._

Alucard grinned, as she shoved the glass into his hand: »Master, have mercy!«

_Yes, my servant. Or mercy._

* * *

Anderson felt beleaguered from all directions. He walked endless wooden corridors, following stairs up and down, taking turns, listening to female voices whsipering and laughing.

At some point he recognised the voice of the Hellsing draculina. She seemed to recite a spell in a foreign language. Another woman cut in, correcting her and encouraging her to try again.

Anderson was certain, they were trying to put a spell on him. Roaring with frustration, he slammed his fists against the wall. They had to be on the other side! He stabbed with his blades, but the wood was hard as steel. The blade broke off and he almost gashed his own leg.

When he turned, he found the grey squirrel sat in the corridor, watching him and wiggling its cute muzzle.

* * *

For the third time in ten minutes, Integra dialled the number of Sir Witherspoon's household on her cell phone. If no one answered now, she would go and find them. She was perched on a blanket against the slanting roof with another blanket around her shoulders. Alucard was propped up against her crooked knee. He had not spoken for some time.

Probably the vodka taking hold.

In the hope of getting him off his self-destructive musings, Integra had made him down his full glass at one draught. Her generous mixture had taken the fight out of him so effectively that she almost felt guilty.

Now, he looked off into the garden, dreaming with open eyes of the wild forests of Wallachia. At least, she supposed, he did, because in the early stages, he had whispered to himself in his native tongue. When she asked, he told her, he was reciting ancient war songs, and he would rather not translate. ("_Don't get me wrong, master, it's nothing to do with disrespect. But it might yet offend the ears of someone, who flinches at the idea of calling a "shitty joke" a "shitty" - see there? You've done it again!")_

Integra put her cell phone away: »I've tried to get back to Sir Witherspoon...« She found her own voice not reliable and cleared her throat: »But his butler told me, he's gone out on an urgent errand.«

No response. A bat fluttered past. Integra felt Alucard's body tense as he followed it with his eyes.

»I'll try again first thing in the morning. Perhaps, if I apologise nicely - «

Without turning his head, Alucard groped for her wrist: »Don't!«

»Why not?« she asked, startled by his unexpected, passionate reaction and the warmth of his hand. Alucard seemed at a loss for words. Eventually, he said: »You're too proud to crawl before a pickled slug, master.«

Integra's face hardened: »Well, since I am such a short-lived creature and unable to oversee the consequences of my actions...«

Alucard grimaced: »I regret, what I said earlier, master.« He stopped, thought again and smiled: »On the other hand, I'm so exceptionally wasted, I don't think, I should be held to anything I say.«

»Manipulative beast!«

Alucard snickered, but, as it seemed, more from habit than anything else. His eyes started to drift shut.

»Before you fall asleep, let's get one thing straight.« Integra shifted her position, the better to support his weight. »Do you remember the night, when the strigae were outside, clawing to get into Hellsing mansion?«

Alucard blinked lazily to indicate that he did.

»That night, you had me crouch in a corner of the room«, Integra went on. »You practically sat on top of me to give me cover. All I ever saw of strigae, were billowing feathers and exploding ancient faces, framed by your legs in front of me. And there were so many other occasions, when you protected me. Why do you think, it would hurt my pride now to make my apologies to a British gentleman, if it served to help you?«

»Because he's not a gentleman«, Alucard mumbled. «And I'm a monster.«

»Also – and in no particular order – dead drunk, homesick, mentally exhausted, physically injured, freezing cold, half asleep and high on nicotine. And fond of cheese crackers.« Integra smoothed a black strand out of his face. »The monster will have to wait in queue, until we've sorted out the more pressing issues, don't you think?«

Alucard's auburn eyes looked like those of an overtired cat, dozing in the sun, and his smile was just as pleasantly drowsy. Integra smiled back. There was something endearing in her semi-conscious, befuddled tom-cat creature grabbing and holding on to her hand: »Master...go to bed, you'll be cold and uncomfortable...«

»I'll be fine«, Integra told him bravely. »Just don't forget to breathe, that's all you have to worry about.«

Still smiling and clasping her hand, Alucard gave in to the number of things that made it desirable – and inevitable - for him to get away from it all for some while.

Integra did not dare move. He needed to sleep so badly. Drifting in and out of slumber, she sat with her vampire, until her cell phone snapped her out of a weird dream. She answered it and listen to Walter's report, asked some questions of her own, then put the phone away.

»Alucard«, she said. »Are you awake? Seras Victoria has contacted Walter. She has spoken to the witch. Walter is picking her up, now. For some reason, she's out of London. They'll make it here in about - «, she checked her watch, »three hours. Somewhere around sunrise.« She nudged the vampire on her lap, feeling her back and legs ache from his dead weight: »Alucard? Do you hear me?«

No, he didn't, she could see it by the deeply relaxed look on his face. Alucard was sound asleep; he had completely missed the phone call and he did not stir, when Integra removed her legs from under him.

»Some guardian!« Smiling, Integra wrapped and tucked her blankets around him. When there was not even a perceptible hitch in his breathing, she retreated down the ladder, to her bed. Getting some proper sleep, before Seras Victoria and Walter arrived with the instructions on the ritual, Seras had learned about.

When she was gone, Alucard snuggled into the blankets, making himself comfortable with his new position. The faintest of cunning smiles played on his lips, but it was neither conscious, nor did it stay for long.

* * *

Anderson realised, that he would not be able to harm the squirrel, no matter, how hard he tried. The demon was moving in its own unholy surroundings, so its magic was probably just too strong.

When the pater ceased flinging blades, he became aware of the fact that he had neither paid attention to directions nor time. He might have been chasing the creature for minutes or days or even weeks. And in doing so, how many stairs and corridors had he passed by? It was a maze down here, but now, he found himself in a rather steep tunnel, leading up.

It seemed, he had chosen the best possible moment for giving up on the chase.

Anderson walked toward the exit and pushed open the door. He had planned to emerge with a battle cry on his lips, but his voice caught in his throat. He knew the low white building, he was looking upon. He knew, which windows would be open to let in the breeze of the warm night, and the names of the boys dreaming in the dormitories behind. He knew the patches of perfect lawn and how much effort and water it took to keep it in the blazing Italian sun.

He just did not know, how the heck he'd walked all the way from London back to the orphanage in the Roman suburb.

The little cypress tree, he had stepped out of (_how had he fitted in there? It was hardly thicker than his arm_), definitely had a branch in it, that much was clear. He cut it down without much fuss, and was about to run after the grey squirrel that fled across the lawn, when his cell phone broke into a Gregorian chorus.

He answered and was confronted by a very angry Maxwell: »Anderson? Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you - «

»Enrico...«

»The bitch and her lap dog are at Sir Witherspoon's mansion! The old crook has alerted one of his clerical confidants, and the intelligence was passed on to me. Thank Goodness, there are servants, who keep me informed on their moves, so - «

Anderson eyed the squirrel that sat on its haunches and wiggled its whiskers at him: »Enrico! I'm in Rome!«

There was a short silence. Then: »_What the fu- faithful?_«

»I followed Alucard's fledgling vampire into a tree. Must've wandered around for hours. And several hundred miles.«

»Then get the he- heavenly sprits on a plane and get back here to London!«

»I'll be at Heathrow in about four hours«, Anderson promised. »Have a car ready for me at the airport.«

»I'll be there myself. On second thought, I'll even get you a plane, now. Whatever foul spell you're under, I don't want you to end up in Australia.«

Phoning for a taxi, Anderson sneaked off the premises; he did not want to scare the boys, who thought him in London. By the time, he reached the airport, the private plane was almost ready for take-off. He was airborn within half an hour and touched down at Heathrow two hours later. Maxwell waited in a car next to the tarmac and the driver set off at freakish speed. Destination: Witherspoon mansion.

+++End of chapter 5+++

* * *

A/N: I seem to be grabbing my motifs from all languages and myths, I ever heard about. "Strix" is a Latin/Greek word for "Owl", folklore knows them as an early kind of vampire creature. The idea and image of Alucard target shooting his own antique predecessors was just to good to omit, once it had formed. Well, I hope you enjoyed and "stay tuned".


	6. Chapter 6

Hi there, it's great, you're back! LimeKiwiEye: Thanks for reviewing and pointing out the trouble with my quotation marks. Actually, I've wondered before, whether the special characters were okay for everyone. Hope, it works better for you now.

I do not own Hellsing or its related characters, and I do not make money with this.

This is a long chapter. (Please, don't tell me off. Alucard already did. Our mutual argument ran something like: "Just because _you're_ screwing things up, _I'm_ doing overtime, is that it?" Yes. That's it.) Enjoy.

* * *

+++Chapter 6+++

Ann took Seras back to the entrance of the tree. At the top of the stairs, she handed the draculina a white, smooth and pointy item.

Seras nearly dropped it: "It's a tooth!"

"The eye-tooth of a wolf," Ann confirmed. "Within, Sir Integra will find five drops of the water of Urda's well. A twig of an ash-tree, you will have to collect, when you're back in the open. Here. Don't forget your notes."

Seras folded the paper and pocketed it: "Thank you. Ann? You're a nice person."

"Your master calls me practical. I think, he had a point." Ann opened the door. It was dark, but the air still carried the warm smell of the sunny day. They could hear church bells chiming in the distance. "Ah," Ann said. "Midnight. A perfect time for you to be on your way, draculina."

"Wait? Where am I? This is not your backyard?" But the door had closed. Seras found herself talking to a tree. She looked about and felt a cold chill creep up her spine: She was in the very woods, where she had spent her first outdoor training camp. Before she had actually signed up to become a police girl.

So this was, where Ancient Mother Ash had located her „roots". Well, it probably made sense. All the other crucial events of her life and un-life after had stemmed from that decision.

But it placed her at quite a distance from London.

Tacitly apologising to the tree, she had emerged from, Seras broke off a twig. Sir Integra would need it later, for the ritual. She fastened the twig to her belt and started her long way home. Breaking into a trot, she got out her cell phone. Maybe, Walter could send someone to pick her up.

* * *

The bats were flocking together, a thousand dark fluttering bodies, milling and teeming, a chorus of whispering voices telling of a traveller coming from far, now being very close...

"Who is coming?" Alucard asked, and the bats started to melt into each other, forming the shape of a man. It was a man in his mid-fifties, and he grabbed Alucard by the collar: "Will you wake up and fight like the monster that you are?", he yelled in that terrible Dutch accent of his.

Alucard felt brutally shaken, but he knew, how to drive his captor crazy: "Why, sir?", he asked, smiling wickedly.

"Because I will not lose, what is mine, to that eccentrics' schemes!" As he'd done so many times before, Abraham Van Hellsing, the first of the dynasty that would entwine its fate with that of the No-life King, floored Alucard with a powerful blow of his fist. Today, however, the ground was soft and pliant.

Opening his eyes, Alucard found himself on a bed, surrounded by teddy bears. A brown cardboard was in front of his face. He squinted to read the message: "You must wake up, Count."

Another cardboard was slipped over the first one: "Squirrel says, Anderson is coming."

Taking an effort, Alucard leaned on his elbows: "Ann?"

She shook her head, showing him another previously prepared cardboard: "Sorry. Third eye. Visual only."

"Must've been Integra's cigar...," Alucard muttered, shaking his head.

Ann wrote: "I am a witch. Witches do magic. Now, wake up!"

She leaned forward and, using both hands, simply threw him off the bed.

_Falling, thrashing, cursing..._

Alucard awoke with a jerk. Dully, he stared at the horizon and wondered, what had happened to him and his coffin. Fading stars twinkled in the distance. Only the morning star stood tall, a brightly shining diamond in the greying sky. On closer inspection, Alucard found himself curled up under a blanket that faintly smelled of his master's cigars and perfume. Now, he remembered: He was on the roof over Integra's room.

His master had been with him, but now she was gone. Something about a midnight phone call. Walter and Seras coming over. Had he dreamed that, as well? Then, what was that part about Anderson and a squirrel?

Alucard sat up. By and large, he was alright, albeit parched and a little hungover. Integra's refill of his cocktail glass and subsequent order to drain it had slammed the vodka into his bloodstream like the blunt side of a blessed bayonet against his head. He vaguely remembered clinging to her stable frame and reasoning with her that he could not possibly get down to the balcony safely. He'd claimed, that he would break his neck, and then Walter would surely kill him.

It now occurred to him, that they had not really reasoned at all. Integra had not needed to be convinced that she'd better not make him move anywhere but to a horizontal position.

But it seemed that the first twenty minutes, the onslaught of dizziness and nausea, had actually been the worst.

Alucard climbed down the ladder now and tip-toed through Integra's bedroom. She was asleep, as she was supposed and entitled to at four o'clock in the morning.

"Please understand that I do not mean to be disrespectful," he told her. "But you're one hell of a dreadful barkeeper, master."

She smiled in her sleep and turned over on her back, resting her head on her crooked arm.

Alucard used her bathroom, trying hard to keep his mind on other things than the revolting business itself. He looked at the faucet, touched his hand to the water jet and licked up the drops.

_Damn, you behave like the police girl in front of a blood-stained weapon,_ he told himself, filled his hands and drank. The cold water felt good and cleared his head.

Silently, he got Integra's keycard out of her jacket and slipped into the corridor.

The grey light of dawn seeped though the high windows and mixed with the electric illumination of the hallways. Creeping down the corridor, Alucard heard distant voices. He reached the entrance hall and peeped around the corner: At the bottom of the broad stair, standing on the beautiful mosaic of the mansion owner's family crest, were Maxwell and Anderson. Witherspoon's butler had just let them in and was talking to them in a hushed voice. The light reflected from Anderson's glasses, warning Alucard just in time to withdraw, as the paladin followed the butler's gesturing hand to the upper floor.

Alucard retreated to Integra's room and cursed softly, when the darkness behind the drawn curtains affected his vision like a black velvet blindfold being pulled down over his eyes.

Integra stirred and sighed. Alucard followed the sound, found the bed, found his master's hair, and neck, and shoulder and, gently, started shaking: "Master! Integra! Wake up!"

Integra came out of deep slumber, but she recognised the familiar shape immediately: "Oh! You're awake? How do you feel?"

Alucard handed her her glasses: "Master, I need to get out of here!"

"What? Why?"

He put his forefinger on his lips and motioned her to listen. Now, she heard it too: Someone was sneaking in the corridor.

Being used to nightly surprises, Integra lost no time. She slipped past Alucard to put on her shoes and jacket. The pants, she tied around her waist: She would change them later, for now, her striped pyjama would have to do.

The footfalls slowed, then halted.

A door was broken down. A voice boomed, it seemed to shake the foundations of the mansion: "AMEN!"

Alucard and Integra dashed for the balcony.

"Third floor," Alucard said, looking down. "This won't work."

"Grab the ivy!" Integra was already over the rail, climbing down fast. Alucard whistled softly: She was quick-witted for someone, who'd been sound asleep only two minutes earlier.

Following her example, he suddenly knew, he'd become the type of night owl, who would go nowhere without his first and second cup of black coffee. _Awesome, their meetings at the breakfast table were going to be just awesome! _Poor Walter was in for the bacon-and-egg of his life...

"He's in your room," Integra looked up at the balcony next to the one, they had escaped from.

"He's after me, not you, master!", Alucard said. "You should not have come with me. Safe yourself!"

Integra proudly straightened her back: "Hellsing does not run away from our enemys!"

"Hellsing just did," her companion pointed out.

Blades came flying at them, spiking the ground and effectively cutting off any further argument. They set off at full speed, Integra naturally taking the lead, Alucard hot on her heels. They dove for the cover of the bushes, zig-zagging through Greek arcades, Celtic stone circles and even an Aztec temple replica. Quite suddenly, Integra halted. Alucard only just evaded bumping into her.

He saw the obelisk that marked the center of the park, some hundred yards to their left. There were olive and pine trees, vines, arcades and a statue of a wolf suckling two pudgy babes. They obviously had entered the Italian section of the pleasure grounds.

Integra lifted the lower branches of a huge green plant: "Under here! Hurry!"

Alucard leered: "Do I get to practically sit on you again?"

"Not before I've changed my pants! Turn around!"

Squatting under the bush, Alucard watched out for Anderson. Behind him, Integra quickly slipped out of her pyjama and put on the pants of her business suit. She was just done, when a beep in her jacket made both of them jump. Surprised, she pulled out her cell phone and stared at the gleaming display: "It's Walter!"

"It's ‚Rule, Britannia, Rule the Waves' at full volume! Make it stop!"

Integra thumbed the button and held the phone slightly tilted for Alucard to listen in: "Walter? Walter, thank goodness, listen, we - "

"Sir Integra? Seras and I have arrived, but it seems, you are not in your room."

"We're huddled beneath some giant rhododrendron with Anderson on our tracks."

"Oh dear! Yes, with Maxwell and all those bayonets struck around this place, I was already afraid, you might be. An 'rhododrendron argyrophyllum maximus', you said?"

"Er..."

Alucard moved Integra's hand to whisper urgently into the cell phone: "The big one near the obelisk. Hurry!"

"Ah, very well!" Walter was silent, then said: "Yes, that's it. Hang on! We'll be with you in... ah, about three minutes. Roughly estimated."

"How did you know?" Integra asked, when she stowed away her cell phone.

"What?"

"This „rhododendron-something-maximus"?"

"Walter seemed to know!" Alucard shrugged. "I found out long ago that that is enough. He was probably on the balcony, using binoculars. Or he simply asked the police - " Seeing Integra's eyes widen, Alucard turned to find himself face to face with Anderson. Because of the gleaming, round glasses, the paladin was all owl's eyes and toothy grin: "Look, who's hiding like a rabbit!"

"Don't you dare assess _my_ actions by interpreting _your_ observations!" Enraged, Alucard snatched Integra's gun from her hand and fired it at Anderson. Six bullets in quick succession, square in the head, with Integra trying to stop him.

"I meant to tell you," she said, when the hammer clicked. "I don't have my spare ammo with me."

"That hurt even less than your verbal attack!" Anderson got to his feet. "Where's your real gun, vampire?"

Alucard dropped Integra's weapon and tackled him, landing a punch on Anderson's jaw. And a kick to the paladin's ribs. He felt grabbed by a strong hand and he strained to break free. Next thing, he knew, was a thumping noise, followed by a dull throb in his skull and blood exploding from his nose. His knees buckled, but Anderson held him up by his collar. Somewhere, Integra cursed and screamed for Anderson to stop. The paladin's next punch felt like Alucard's right cheekbone was going to pieces. The backhand slap brought tears to his eyes. But he was not yet defeated. He leaned into the fist that was holding his weight, kicked with both legs and hit Anderson in the stomach. The paladin staggered and got out a fistful of bayonets. Alucard dodged them and landed flat on his stomach.

He spotted Integra down on her hands and knees in some meters distance. She turned over, sat down and held her head.

"Integra?" Unable to get up, Alucard started to crawl over to her. "Are you alright?"

"Don't worry..." But she rather sounded like he should worry a lot, actually.

Alucard turned to Anderson: "What did you do?"

"She got in the way," the paladin said.

"_What did you do?_"

"She tried to grab my arm and was flung aside, when I punched you." Anderson explained, as the vampire staggered to his feet.

"I'm going to kill you for that," Alucard told him, very calmly.

"How? Splitting my sides with laughter?" Anderson watched, as his reeling opponent gathered up two bayonets.

"No. Splitting your skull with your own, blessed blades."

"Amen!" Anderson charged.

Alucard dodged the blade, and when it came whizzing back, he countered it with the weapon in his right hand, striking out with his left. His bayonet drew blood. Andersons growled and attacked again. Alucard side-stepped him easily, pivoted and slashed. Again, his blade hit home.

Anderson was flabbergasted: "What are you doing?"

An uncanny gleam shone in Alucard's eyes, even though they were not red: "I already told you: I'm going to kill you."

"I heard you!" Anderson screamed. "But you never before engaged in swordfight!"

"I have," Alucard weaved his blades in an intricate pattern. "I did. Only it's so very long „before"."

When Alucard approached Anderson, he did for once not wear his trademark maniac grin. He looked utterly calm and concentrated. His bearing was regal. The bayonets seemed to befit his hands perfectly, now that he'd decided to wield them. The count from fifteenth century Europe had not always used guns to kill. The Jackal and the Casull were his modern time favorites, but measured by the span of his life as a warrior, they were like birthday presents just unwrapped.

And now they were swordfighting, and what a fight it was! Alucard remembered Walter's advice to rely on instinct, speed and dexterity, and he used it to make up for Anderson's greater strength. Anderson's blades hit trees, bushes, statues, benches, hedges and even the obelisk. They never hurt his opponent. Alucard dodged and jumped, blocked and side-stepped, careful to never stand still long enough to be an easy target. He did not act cowardly, only played it very, very safe, as he kept watching out for his opportunities.

And he found them, in surprising numbers: When it came down to fencing, the former warlord quickly proved the superior fighter, by far. So much so that Alucard soon cursed his own pitifully limited strength and Anderson's damned regeneration: If this had been a matter of skill only, the paladin would be on his knees by now!

But even with the sharpest blade, it's not easy to cut off someone's head at one stroke. Especially, if that head's attached to a neck and shoulders, sized and muscled like those of a small bull. Alucard saw his attempt to crucially hurt Anderson fail for about the fifth time, and leaped onto a statue to think of a new strategy. It was a prancing bronze horse, and Alucard balanced with difficulty on the slippery back of the beast.

Anderson looked up at him. The deep slash in his neck was already healing.

Enervated by the futility of his attempts, Alucard claimed the offensive. Leaping over Anderson's head, he planned to stab the paladin from above and then, two seconds later, from behind. But he had calculated the stunt from a vampiric point of view. He simply could not catapult himself in a high arc, so instead of giving Anderson trouble, he was in danger of being plucked out of the air like a speared duck. When he landed on his right foot, intending to pivot and charge, his ankle gave way.

Yelping with surprise and pain, Alucard lost a precious second, catching his balance. He looked up, and his eyes opened wide: "Shit!"

Anderson's blade tore downward. It dug into Alucard's shoulder, smashed the collar-bone, was deflected by it and got stuck in the upper ribs. Alucard choked, torn between the urge to screetch like a banshee and the inability to get air into his lungs.

"Choking on one's own blood feels nasty, even for you." Anderson used both hands on the heft, since his opponent's full weight seemed to bear down on the bayonet. "But you may beg me to end your suffering, monster, and it shall be done."

"Never - begging," the staked vampire whispered and, gasping painfully, added: "Kill me - anyway?"

Anderson narrowed his eyes: "Have you been baptised a Catholic?"

"Er? What?"

"_Answer me!_ Have you been baptised a Catholic?"

"Yes! Yes, I was!" Alucard all but shouted at his inquisitor. He felt like he'd witnessed a very similar situation before, but he was in too much pain, he just could not remember the circumstances right now.

Anderson's bearing seemed to falter a tiny bit: "So I was told. Order of the Dragon. Fighter for the Holy Roman Catholic Church. The Holy Father once commended you..."

"Good old times..."

"Shut up!" Anderson reached out with his forefinger. Alucard tried to turn away, but Anderson touched his finger to the tears of pain that leaked from the corners of the auburn eyes. Reproachfully, he showed the clear liquid to his captive: "No blood! No monster! Simply and ordinarily human. Why did you – why did that British Protestant moron not tell us, when he called Enrico?"

Amazed, Alucard realised that Anderson was really pissed.

"A human being and a christened Catholic, to make things complicated!", the paladin fumed. "What did you mean to do? Trick me into killing you, to drag my soul into the abyss of mortal sin and damnation?"

"The two of us together in hell," Alucard croaked. "A holiday to look forward to, huh?"

"Shut your fiendish mouth! Idiot!" The paladin held fast on the bayonet and used his right arm to support the vampire's weight as he lowered Alucard to the ground. Even though Anderson tried to go gently, the pain was excruciating. Alucard was determined to lose neither his dignity nor his consciousness in the presence of his enemy. Through the haze of his struggles, he heard Anderson recite: "Thou shalt not kill, speaketh the Lord. Only the unnatural creatures, the blood-sucking monster and undead that shun His light must be chastised by the blessed swords...and heathens and heretics will feel His wrath - argh!"

Accompanied by the sound of a very familiar gun, the support of Anderson's hands vanished. His droning voice was replaced by Walter, exclaiming: "Alucard? Good heavens!"

Alucard blinked and turned his head: Integra was there, and Maxwell, held in check by Hellsing soldiers. Seras Victoria stood some metres away. She clutched the Casull with both hands. Obviously, she had waited for her master to be safely on the ground, before she pulled the trigger.

"Eh! That's my gun, police girl," Alucard said sullenly.

"Sorry," Seras whispered. Unthinking, she held it out to him.

"You may keep it for now," Alucard said, feeling, in a dreamy way, very magnanimous. "I might, however, need it later."

Anderson, who was recovering from the silver bullet in his back, shrugged: "Until next time, Alucard. _If_ you're a monster then."

Laughing softly, to show that he was looking forward to that fight, Alucard passed out.

He was unconscious for no longer than a few minutes. When he came around, Integra knelt beside him: "Bad news, Alucard. Walter says, we cannot remove that blade in your shoulder, without risking your life. Since you've not choked or bled to death by now, we can assume that so far no vital parts have been ruptured. But it might yet happen, on the way to or even during surgery. Your life is suspended on a thin thread. You must decide, whether you place it in the hands of surgeons – or a mythical creature."

"I'll opt for the norn. She has a thousand years of experience with the maintaining of life-threads."

"But I have none with ancient rituals!"

"There's always a first time, master."

Integra snorted: "Even for cursing in Spanish."

Alucard nodded knowingly: "Or blowing off heads, if you've got a gun."

Even in the presence of bystanders, they definitely had their means to let each other know: _I'm worried. And it's your damned fault!_

_Again!_

+++End of chapter 6+++

* * *

A/N: Well, so far, so good... Not much to point out this time. Hope, you enjoyed - please, feel free to review - thanks for reading & "CU" soon.


	7. Chapter 7

Hi there. Glad, you're back. Remember: I don't own Hellsing, nor do I make money from this.

I just enjoy being mean to certain vampires. ;)

* * *

+++ Chapter 7 +++

Integra squinted in the dark, trying to figure out the tiny handwriting on the document, Seras had handed her. "Quick! Get me a branch of an ash tree, a silver ritual knife and a thread!"

"Here, Sir Integra!" Seras handed her a green branch, which she had carried in her belt. "And a silver blade. Uh, I hope, Ann won't mind the Christian blessing. She's wearing crosses, after all."

"A thread. Will this do?" Walter proffered a shiny wire, thin like cobweb and about as deadly.

"We are playing by ear, aren't we?" Integra used the bayonet, Seras had given her, to draw a pentagramma on the ground. "Are you ready, Seras?"

"Yes, Sir Integra."

Integra used the silver blade to pierce her finger and sprinkled some maiden blood on the five points of the pentagramma.

"She, who sits at Urda's silent shore, see my plight...," Seras Victoria recited the old Nordic spell in its original language, as Ann had taught her. Integra murmured after her. She could not understand the words, but Seras had told her, that a serious try would be sufficient to make her presence known to the forces of the circle.

Five flames sprung from the ground.

"She, who dwells at the ash tree's roots, hear my call..."

The branch seemed to attract the light of the five flames and began to glow from within.

"She, who spins the thread – the thread - " Seras looked up, changing back to English: "Oh no - "

"Concentrate, police girl," Alucard's voice cut in calmly. "Remember the lesson like you would think back on a dream..."

Seras swallowed. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists: "...spins the thread. The.. Engulfing all, (yes, that's it) – maiden sister, bid me welcome..."

Integra repeated all the words that were not English and peeled off the waxen seal from the wolf's eye-tooth. It contained some drops of a colourless liquid, which she took on her tongue. The liquid was tasteless, like clear, cold water.

She threw the wire up in the air. It hovered and, taking on a golden sheen, started to zig-zag along the imaginery lines of the pentagramma, faster and faster, until the onlookers could no longer see the woman within the shining mesh.

Integra had closed her eyes, the flashing wire made her dizzy. When she tentativly blinked again, she found herself inside a golden, five-sided room. It was much more spacious than the small pentagramma had been. The branch had grown into a tree. There was a hole between its roots. A red haired woman emerged, a welcoming smile on her lips. She wore a green dress and lots of amulets. She craned her neck to look at the tree, stopped and said: "Oh, but my dear, dear girl! That's not an ash tree! That's an oak!"

* * *

"Will anyone tell me, what's happening?"

Seras gasped, when she found Alucard right behind her: "Master? How did you get up?"

"With difficulty, police girl." Alucard leaned on her shoulder and stared ahead at the ritual site. Neither the golden wire, nor Integra were visible within the pentagramma.

"Alucard," Walter said. "I sincerely recommend that you - "

"Police girl, take a bayonet and stab Walter, if he attempts to stop me." Alucard approached the pentagramma. He staggered and nearly fell, clutching the handle of the bayonet that was still buried in his shoulder.

"But, master...!"

"Police girl! Do as I say!"

Slowly, dazedly, Seras started to look around for a blade.

"It is alright, Seras Victoria." Walter's face appeared pale and frozen. "Don't force her to do this, Alucard. You can do whatever you like. It's your life at stake, after all. Your decision."

"Indeed. I'm sorry, Walter." Alucard really meant it. He had not wanted to hurt the police girl. Or Walter. It was just so important, staying on his feet and getting to his master's side. But how could any of these mortals-by-heart be expected to understand the plight of a vampire, who had agreed to serve?

"I know," Walter said, and somehow he made it sound like he really did. "I understand. - Oh my, but you can hardly stand. Seras, will you please help Alucard walk all the way to the pentagramma and, if possible, enter the circle? - Alucard?" The butler raised a warning forefinger at the vampire: "Whatever creature you believe in may be with you, if you fail to bring our master back home!"

* * *

The witched had climbed out of the hole and was circling the tree, looking up in the branches: "Oh dear! Oh dear! You really were in a hurry, were you? Or are you just not into botanics?"

"Are you Ann?" Integra asked.

"Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing," the witch said. "Such a pretty name. But too long by far. How about that? Ingrate Awesting Gin-Shell. There are probably better ones. I just made it up."

"Actually, my second name is „Fairbrook"," Integra muttered.

"Is it? Then let's settle for „Boar-Fir, ok"?"

It took Integra a moment to recognise the second anagram: "I have no time for this. Alucard is dying. I need you to release the spell you cast on him."

"I'm sorry," Ann said. "I already told Seras. You must ask Sculd. She waits for you down at the bottom of - " She once more glanced at the tree; Integra was really starting to feel pissed. " - Yggdrasil's roots. Now, who could that be?"

Ann went to the golden haze that separated the inside of the pentagramma from the outside world, and put her hand through the wall. Someone from outside grabbed it, and she guided him over.

Integra gasped: "Alucard! What in hell are you trying to prove?"

He looked a mess, like he was going to faint on the spot. He tried to give her his notorious grin, but the effort was as strained as his voice: "Can't let you do all the handiwork."

"But that's madness! Irresponsible! I forbid you to - "

"No, no," Ann said. "That's just fine. You two go down into Yggdrasil together. That's fine!"

"Yggdrasil?" Alucard looked up at the high branches. "I'm not an expert on Nordic mythology, but isn't Yggdrasil supposed to be an ash-tree?"

Integra exploded: "Well, excuse _me_ for having other things on my mind! Anyway, it was your draculina, who brought along that damned twig!"

"And aren't we all happy that it belonged to an oak?" Ann asked good-naturedly. "Because Ancient Mother Ash would not have taken that curse lightly. Now, off you go."

"Is there at least _some_ useful advice, you can give us?" Integra asked, gritting her teeth.

Ann looked Alucard up and down: "Stay alive," she said.

He drew a shuddering breath: "Practical - "

"Come on!" Integra cast Ann a venomous glance, as she put Alucard's arm across her shoulder.

Ann stayed behind. She would have smiled, but she felt too concerned. For both of them. And herself.

* * *

Integra had expected the roots of a mythological tree to reach far down into the soil. But the stairs ended right after the first bend. Like someone knew about her companion's state and wanted to facilitate matters.

"We're supposed to be in the sewers of London. Maybe the Underground," Alucard said. "Where does that beach come from?"

Marvelling, they stared at the sea that stretched into infinity. Everything had a golden hue to it: the sand, the water, even the sky.

"I can see, you question the reality of this scene," a voice behind them said. "I assure you, Urda's well is as real as you believe it to be."

Integra felt Alucard's fingers dig into her shoulder, as if he meant to clasp and rip out her collar bone.

"Sir Witherspoon?" She briskly shook her head. "No. No, that is not possible."

The bent old man smiled. The white hair, the pale blue eyes, even the arthritic hands on the studded walking stick fooled the eye. But his voice was that of a woman: "I am Sculd. Sir Witherspoon died. The demon, he had so long managed to evade, killed him one hour before midnight. The thread was cut, but his soul lingers, to give the shadow a face. You, No-life King, shape shifter and master manipulator, should not be as surprised as you pretend to be."

Alucard glowered at the apparition.

"You seem to imply that his death was somehow Alucard's fault," Integra said rationally. "But by that time, he was not even in the house."

"Nor were you, thirteenth of thirteen guests," Sculd pointed out. Integra's eyes widened.

"Under the roof, on the roof," Alucard muttered into her silence. "Is it my fault, demons always take these things so damn literally?"

"You plotted it?" Integra was aghast: "You acted the poor, hurting beast, to make me stay outside with you?"

"It was your own decision, master. I was bloody drunk at that time. But I clearly remember suggesting that you go inside."

"You claimed, I might be cold and uncomfortable! If I had but known that it was about killing the old man..."

Alucard decided, he had taken this particular game far enough: "Then what, master? The old slug wanted to kill me, long before you were even born! I know, because he underestimated my ability to see and perceive more than meets the human eye. The experiments, he planned to conduct on me, involved lots of blessed silver spikes and Holy Water. Your father was quite young and a seeker of knowledge himself. Yet, I still remember his words, when Witherspoon elaborated on his details: _„Dear friend! Such cruelty! Your intentions suggest, you don't consider Alucard a sentient being."_ And Witherspoon screamed: _„It's a vampire, damn! A killer and a bloody manipulator, and if you are on his side, he's wormed his way into your brains already!"_"

"What did my father reply?" Integra asked, when Alucard did not go on.

Slowly, Alucard shook his head: "I won't put his words into your mouth. You might feel manipulated."

"What became of Sir Witherspoon?"

"After he blamed Arthur to be my puppet, I never perceived his voice again. Until tonight. When he brought the Iscariots to the scene. Anderson told me as much."

"The old mortal was afraid of you," the image of Sir Witherspoon cut in, reminding both of them of its presence. "He was aware of a vampire's nature and abilities. Are you, maiden sister? Do you understand, what a vampire can do?"

"Of course I do! I am the leader of the Hellsing Organisation."

"You," Sculd said, "are a mortal, messing with monsters."

The scene changed and they found themselves in a circular room like a cavern. They were looking upon a fake image of Alucard, killing a fake image of Integra.

***She was hanging upside down in the jaws of the black demon dogs that had sprouted from Alucard's body. They were holding her so high, her hair hardly touched the ground. It was dripping red. Her throat had been slashed – no, mangled. But she was still alive, to keep the blood coming.

The fake Alucard was down on his hands and knees, lapping up the pooling blood. His long, living hair fell in his eyes, so Integra, the onlooker, could only see his grinning mouth and the grotesquely long and pointed tongue that was busily at work.***

Integra's stomach tightened. She knew, she was looking at a nightmare. A nightmare, she had kept dreaming for more than ten years now, without ever remembering in the morning. She contained herself: Sculd, like Alucard – like any supernatural being, demon, vampire – probably sensed fear in a mortal and thrived on it. Mentally, at any rate. Integra would not give her that satisfaction.

"You show me nothing new," she said icily. "I know, how Alucard looks, when he's feeding upon a ... special treat."

Sculd had dropped the mask of Sir Witherspoon and taken on the shape of Ann. Only she did not wear crosses, and her eyes were gleaming green like emeralds: "Bravely spoken, child. Especially, since it might be your own death, you're looking on!"

Alucard laughed out loud: "If you really think so, then you have missed a crucial point. My master – she is Hellsing!"

He let go of Integra's shoulder and took one unsteady step forward: "Fight!" he ordered the fake Integra.

***At the sound of his voice her eyes opened, locking on to him. She had lost her glasses, but, being an illusion, she did not seem to be impaired.***

"Fight!" Alucard repeated, clutching the handle of the blade that still stuck in his shoulder. Something had just snapped in there. Time was blood, and he was running out of both.

***The fake Integra started to move her right hand. She reached into her jacket.***

"_Come on! Fight!_" Alucard screamed at her –

***- and she pulled out her handgun and emptied the magazin into the demons that were holding her. The hounds retreated, dropping her to the ground. The fake Alucard transformed into a black shadow of whipping tentacles and red eyes.***

The real Integra supported her corporeal vampire and helped him glide to the floor. His shoulder was bleeding profusely. Integra tried to stop the flow with her bundled jacket.

"Interesting move," Sculd commented. "But you know, it will only buy her time."

***The fake Integra got to her knees. The fake Alucard re-emerged in his favorite red-coated shape.

"Authorisation Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. Explicit order to release control art restriction system," the fake Integra rasped. "All levels, until the target has been eliminated."

"Master?," the fake Alucard asked. "What _is_ the target?" ***

The real Integra felt her companion's grip tighten on her hand.

_My decision,_ she thought. _An act of mercy. Or dominance._

She made her choice, but it did not feel like a choice, really.

***"Alucard," the fake Integra said.

The fake Alucard's eyes were wide, as his form disintegrated into wafting wisps of black and red shadows. Dogs, bats, centipedes began teeming and whirling. Eyes blinked, looked about in a panic, then went out. First his hair, then his body, the vampire turned into a blazing white flame.***

"I am the master of the No-life King," Integra said aloud. "I do not tolerate disrespect in a servant. Therefore I do, what I must."

But did her image-self really need to step into the living hell of the blazing whirlwind, the fake Alucard had become? Then, why was she doing it, clasping her arms around the monster's neck?

The vampire did not even appear surprised. Gently, he brushed away her burning hair and sank his teeth into her throat. He took her life into himself, the last familiar, he'd ever create from a victim. And this one last life, they now shared, withered in the heat and died down and was burnt to a cinder.

_If the fake Integra had been changed into a nightstalking vampire, she would never see another sunset now._

Sculd stood beside Integra: "Do you care for him so much?" she asked softly. "Or did you only feel guilty?"

"A master-servant-relationship, as we Hellsing see it, is never a one-way-affair," Integra said firmly. "We never demand, what we're not prepared to give ourselves. That's our side of the bargain. Our pride."

"Arthur's words..." Alucard's voice was almost too low to hear. But it didn't matter. Integra could feel him right outside her thoughts now. There were no words. Words would come back later. Yet, it was unmistakably a vampire's mind – _her_ vampire's mind, touching, teasing, probing to be admitted. Integra opened up, and the connection was established so enthusiastically, she almost expected to hear it fizzle and zing.

Soon, it felt like a big dog, happily rummaging about and turning in an undersized basket.

"Why did I have to talk to you, Sculd? Why not Loki?" Integra asked over the cheerful repossession going on in the vaults of her subconscious.

"What do you mean, child?"

"The story, Sir Witherspoon told me: The magic to deal and undo immortality was originally Loki's. Why not talk to Loki?" Integra took a deep breath and continued: "All the time, I felt that the narrative left a lot of questions unanswered. But Alucard's remark about a demon's habit of sticking to the letter suddenly brought it all together. Now, I think, Sir Witherspoon missed the point. Because he was an old man and focussed on the aspect of immortality."

"So, what _was _the point?" Sculd's smile suggested that she already knew Integra's answer.

"It was a game between Loki and you all along," Integra said. "You could have done all you liked. After all, you're a goddess in your own right. But you enjoyed the bargain: If the wounded mage lived, you would comply with the trickster's wishes and surrender yourself to him. Loki gave you the magic. He already considered himself triumphant." Integra's words were spilling out fast: "But you never really cared, whether the mage be alive or dead! You killed him on his coming back to life, claiming he „had not lived", so Loki was thwarted! And not for the first time, I'd wager! Your seal, Lady Sculd, is about two persons engaged in a relentless battle of will! Compassion for a third is only a means! A cliché. An alibi, which you used for lulling Loki into a false sense of security."

Sculd smiled: "I, too, do, what I must," she said, but Integra went on: "What I need to know is: Do you and Loki still indulge in bickering and games? Is that, what happened here? Alucard and I, are we just puppets in your cosmic love fight?"

"Puppets? More than that, maiden sister – mir- aargh!" Sculd screeched, when a silver spade broke through her ribs. Blood fountained out of the wound and out of her mouth, drowning her shrill scream. Her form collapsed in a rain of blood, spraying Alucard, who was standing at Sculd's back. He wielded the bayonet, that had formerly been stuck in his shoulder.

Integra looked at the puddle of blood on the floor and pushed up her glasses: "Say, my servant: You have not, by the way, just slaughtered a thousand-year-old valkyre?"

"Why the surprise? I already slaughtered two-thousand-year old Greek strigae!" Alucard reached out for her, as the valkyre's blood casually passed into his body. "And now, master, please allow me to practically sit on top of you again! This place is coming down!"

"I really wanted to hear that answer!" Integra grumbled, as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Sorry, master! I'll try to time my outbursts of variable violence more circumspectly next time." Alucard draped her jacket around her shoulders and picked her up bridal-style.

No heartbeat. No living breath. The information registered, but not as top priority. Alucard was busy, protecting his fragile, mortal master from harm. Integra was busy, thinking about what Sculd had meant to tell her: _Why was she acting so helpful? She had no reason to care about us. To her, our distress was a mere by-product of a meddlesome affair that has gone on for ages..._

"Excuse me, master!" Alucard gently lowered Integra to the ground and positioned himself over her. The scenery around them seemed to fall apart. Firebrands were coming down everywhere. Alucard bowed down, trying to expose as little of himself as possible.

Lost in thought, Integra placed her hand protectively on the back of his head. He snatched her hand and tucked it safely under his body.

_More than puppets? Mir-ah-?_

A maiden and a monster, committed to each other – mind and soul, by ancient bonds.

Will and pride, actors in a cosmic love fight. _("Stop fake-breathing down my neck! It's setting my teeth on edge!") _

Sitting on top of each other, driving each other crazy, _("You mean, like this, master?") - _in their strange, small world, only the well-informed would ever know existed.

_("Oh, drop dead, Alucard!" - "With pleasure, master!")_

Bickering and gambling. Forever.

Miracles? Mirages?

Mirror.

_Damned!_

_+++ End of Chapter 7_

A/N: Well now. We're almost done. I've got a question: Did Alucard fool any of you the way he fooled me? I wrote and re-wrote that "roof-scene" six or seven times (it wasn't taking place on the roof, to begin with). I didn't want him to look too pathetic. Yet, whatever I tried - he always ended up lying across Integra's lap, looking "endearingly helpless". And I just _knew_, I was missing something (I mean, _come on_, as long as you can think of and pronounce a word like "exceptionally" in a full sentence, how bad can it be, really?) But it was only when I asked myself, which form Sculd would choose, that this little voice of inspiration said: "Sir Witherspoon's. Because he's dead. - You realised that, didn't you? Oh, come on! You wrote down the conditions yourself! You've watched Alucard capturing Integra's attention, no matter the cost..."

I could've knocked down the ladder and designed some _really_ bad weather then ;). But instead, I just rewrote the scene, and this time, finally, it felt like I'd gotten it "right".

Well, I hope, you'll be back for the last chapter. There's some more blood to shed and mop up.


	8. Chapter 8

Hello, everybody. Welcome to the last chapter. Some more promises to keep and loose ends to tie up. I'm a little early, but I won't be near my word processor the upcoming weekend, and I did not want to drag this into next week.

Kokina: Thank you so much for reviewing. Seems, like you really had lots of fun, and I was so happy you let me know. I think, you got everything right, just keep in mind that the whole mess was first initiated by Maxwell. He definitely had no idea, what he triggered, though. As to Sculd - well, I guess, at some point, she simply became curious. If anyone has another interpretation, that's fine with me.

Because, as I tried to make clear before: I do not own Hellsing (anyway), and I do not make money with this.

* * *

+++Chapter 8+++

Walter and Seras watched the flames at the points of the pentagramma snuff out and the gleaming wire fall to the ground. They saw the ash-branch (that was an oak, actually) go up in flames, and parts of a greater tree rain to the ground. Smoldering leaves and scorched branches fell on the crouching form that materialised in the center of the ritual site.

Not quite sure what to expect, Alucard had transformed into that absolutely crazy-looking, lean monster with grotesquely elongated limbs and knee-long hair, whom Integra had first met in her father's dungeon.

He knelt over Integra, shielding her body with his and protecting her head with his arm. His head was bowed beside hers. Their hair was a spilling, moving mass of black and white-blonde, cloaking their faces. Integra's jacket was soaked in blood.

Walter saw Seras look on with red eyes the size of saucers and he had to admit, he felt a little worried himself. He cleared his throat:"Sir Integra? Are you alright?"

Alucard immediately raised his head and Sir Integra, flat on her back, turned hers. It relieved Walter of his worst fears. But it certainly did not make their position appear any less compromising. The only ones oblivious of the impression they made on their bystanders were the delinquents themselves.

"I am unharmed, Walter," Integra said."Thanks to Alucard."

She nodded coolly at her vampire. Just as levelly, he moved to let her get up.

Walter cleared his throat and stepped forward:"Seras found these on the roof..."

He held out two white gloves, torn and bloodied, but the symbols on their back intact nevertheless.

Integra stiffened: She had completely forgotten about the accessoirs.

_But – the restrictions?_

Alucard still squatted with one knee on the ground. His red eyes returned Integra's glance with the pleasant, calculating expression of a cat watching a small animal and wondering if it might be worth the effort.

_I probably missed a chance_, those inhuman eyes seemed to say to her. _But do you regret?_

Integra took the gloves from Walter. Slowly, very slowly, she approached her vampire. Just as slowly, he offered her his hand. He did not bow his head. They kept looking at each other, focussed and attentive, almost like strangers. Holding Alucard's gaze, Integra took first his left hand, then his right and slipped the gloves over the cold skin.

They were watched by a dozen pairs of eyes. No one spoke. No one seemed to breathe.

Except for Anderson: Maybe the paladin had seen Alucard willingly wiggling his fingers to assist Integra. Maybe he had noticed the subtle softening of their eyes, when the second glove was back in place, their master-servant-relation restored.

Whatever it was, he inhaled sharply and, as it seemed, disdainfully. Which, in turn, drew Integra's attention.

"One insolent word, Paladin, and I'll kill you!" Integra pointed her reloaded handgun."I swear by the ghost of my father, I'll kill you not only once, but again and again, without rest, without remorse or mercy, until – until Alucard has found a way to dispatch you once and for all."

"This, of course, will take time!" Alucard got up and stood behind her."You'll die an awful number of times, Anderson. Starting now."

"Alucard!" Integra pretended to be shocked."Control yourself! You're not going to turn him into a ghoul?"

"Good question...let's find out..." Alucard smoothly went to a crouch, preparing to charge.

"I order you to stop! He's a paladin!"

"Master!" Plaintively, the vampire raised his head to look at the woman. His black hair was gliding and whipping and moving, as if in a storm."You're torturing me deliberately!"

"Yes, and aren't you enjoying my little game?" Integra said softly, focussing her mind ..._Alocando?_

A truly lunatic grin spread on Alucard's face:"_Yeeesssss, Master!_"

Anderson looked back and forth between them. He had not heard the silent communication, but he seemed to sense it:"But - this is madness! This surpasses the blackest sin any witch has ever committed as she bedded down with her unholy master! The two of you cannot be in lo- "

Integra shot him.

"I warned you," she simply told the smoldering corpse."Besides, you've gotten the point of Hellsing master-servant-relations all wrong. Didn't he, Alucard?"

"Awww, master!" The vampire could not get out more. The sight of the blood had him writhing and fidgeting, the ecstasy of their game now turned into black claws of thirst that ravaged his innards. _Missy! Missy Got-a-Gun!_

"Distressed, are you?" Integra grinned. Blunt teeth greeted wolfish fangs. Red eyes gleamed. Glasses reflected the light of the rising sun.

A quickening of Integra's virgin pulse had Alucard charging, almost before Integra herself was aware that she'd made a decision.

* * *

It was messy. It was gross.

It was more than enough to assume, Anderson would have serious trouble pulling himself together and out of this one. He was flinging blades by the dozen, cutting the vampire to pieces. But those pieces just would keep coming at him, while they reassembled. Alucard was loosening pandemonium on him, while at the same time ripping him apart in the air and absorbing his blood, before it touched ground.

Some Hellsing guards had turned away. Others had to retch into the bushes.

None of them would ever again use the word „pet" anytime during a conversation that also addressed the topic of the Hellsing No-life King.

Eventually, Integra called her vampire back:"Enough, Alucard! I need something to ship back to the Vatican! You hear me? Stop it!"

Alucard turned to her, his eyes glowing insanely:"Master...what about Maxwell?"

"Maxwell? Maxwell should try and get a really good head start." Integra signalled her guards to step back."Just remember, I need him alive, too."

Alucard smiled at Maxwell:"Do you want to learn, what you can live through?"

Maxwell gulped:"You – you cannot do this!"

"But, yes, I can," Alucard assured amiably."So, do you want to learn, what you can - "

"Sir Integra!" Maxwell howled.

"The next church is Rosary Chapel, about a mile downhill. Of course, the sanctity of the place won't hinder my servant. But he'll respect it for sports."

Maxwell dashed for the woods, his silver pony-tail fluttering like a flag.

Kneeling on his dead-for-now prey, Alucard began to chuckle, then he laughed. He reared up and, screaming with laughter, flipped back his long black hair in a great arc.

Sie Integra looked on with her arms crossed, a dark smile on her face.

Walter offered her a light: "One of these days, he'll start howling at the moon," he sighed.

"What do you mean, he'll start? Where have you been, all those years, when the moon was full?"

A nonplussed look spread on Walter's face: "Oh dear. And I used to think it was the gardener's dog. German shepherd. He looks like a wolf."

"I know. Alucard and he get along pretty well."

They both looked on, as Alucard rose to his feet and tiptoed in the direction, Maxwell had fled. He paused, seeming to pick up the scent: "Ready or not, here I come, Maxwell!"

And off he went.

"Are you not afraid of him sometimes?" asked Walter.

"Sometimes," Integra admitted. "I've wanted to talk to you about it. But I've been wondering, indeed, if we could not put him on a short leash."

"Alucard?" asked Walter.

"Eh?" Integra cast him a curious glance: "Of course not! The gardener's German shepherd!"

* * *

They had not consciously decided to meet for dinner. They just did.

And somehow, Walter had laid the table for exactly these two.

There was roast chicken and salad for Integra, and there was bottled blood and a crystal goblet for Alucard, all ready and set, when they arrived. Integra entered through the door, and Alucard phased into the room only a little later, as if he were merely dropping in by chance.

They sat at the table, ackknowledged each other's presence and simply went about their meal. Integra savoured every bite, trying to delay the conversation that was bound to follow. Alucard lifted his goblet and studied the colour of the blood against the light.

"You killed me," he said in a conversational tone. "You finished me off, just like that."

"You started it," Integra reminded him. "It was you, who told my double to fight."

"She'd have remembered before long. We both know, the „Final Order" is exactly, what you would do."

"But we don't know, if it would work."

"That's right. We don't." Alucard finished admiring the fascinating sparkles of light on the crystal glass and downed its contents.

Integra continued on her salad. She was aware of her vampire watching her, maybe smiling a little. It was so obvious that she was evading to look at him.

_Do you care for me so much? Or did you just feel guilty?_

Integra decided to carve out his heart with her spoon, if he should repeat Sculd's question aloud.

He didn't. He was undead, but not stupid.

He said: "Seras told me, these enchanted tree-things would lead you to where-ever this ‚Ancient Mother Ash'-creature considered you "rooted"."

"A difficult choice, with two people clinging to each other the way we did," Integra said, making an educated guess as to his point. "Your roots go back to a castle, a tourist attraction in Eastern Europe. Mine are right here, at Hellsing mansion."

"I've got another working theory," Alucard said. "Is it so unthinkable, master – that we wound up right where we had started from, because each of us was already exactly where we belonged?"

Integra gave him an unreadable look over the rim of her glasses: "I utterly – absolutely, definitely refuse the idea that I belong buried under an undead body, with his hair in my face, his teeth within an inch beside my neck and his weight on my boo-bh-_bosom_."

"I understand. Would it make you more comfortable, if we switched positions next time?"

Integra muttered something unintelligible.

Alucard pressed: "Really, I don't mind! That awakening in our emergency ward was the best, I've had in years!"

"Oh, shut it!"

Knowing that he had gone far enough, Alucard let a heartbeat pass. Then he asked soberly: "Integra? What about my theory?"

She munched away at her chicken, taking out her anger on the poor, grilled beast.

Alucard waited. He had his head cocked, so his black hair fell deep into his face, partly shading it. He watched her from under this curtain of hair, a quizzical gleam in his red eyes. Silently, she dared him to try and wrest the answer from her thoughts against her will. His smile deepened, but he was not mocking. He was not mocking her at all.

Neither did he trespass on her secret.

She loved him for it.

But that was part of the secret, and something, she would kill to protect.

Eventually, Alucard got up.

"You're leaving?" Integra felt slightly alarmed, although she had wanted him gone only five seconds earlier.

"Got an errand to run."

Integra watched him over an impaled mushroom on her fork: "I take it, feeding on her is like sucking out the blue stuff at the bottom of the cocktail?"

Alucard stopped in his tracks. He did not turn around, but Integra could hear the smile in his voice: "Yesss..."

"Well, go and get yourself all the blue stuff, or the likes of it, that you want," Integra plucked the mushroom and waved her empty fork around. "But make sure, you don't end up in the same old mess again. And try not to get too bloody intoxicated to miss tomorrow morning's sunrise."

Looking over his shoulder, he winked a gleaming red eye at her: "And perish in the light? This won't happen. You've been watching all the wrong movies, master."

"I'll be needing you here. Tonight, we're monsters on a well-earned holiday. Tomorrow, we'll be back at shooting and ripping and doing, what we must, to survive."

Alucard flashed her a brief grin and left.

Integra stared at the door long after he had phased through. It was not correct to say that in the chaos of Sculd's mythical place coming down they'd somehow missed to take notice of their success. The celebration had taken place.

It had been in the first, tacit, caressing touching of their minds, as the telepathy was restored. It had been so warm, so tender, like a real lover's hands holding Integra's face and his lips brushing hers, ever so slightly. After that, there had been no need for words.

The celebration had taken place. She had believed it to be an instinctive response on her vampire's part. An unconscious reaction to her opening her mind so willingly.

But tonight, she had learned, that he could obviously touch her that way, whenever he wanted to.

Integra had no trouble subdueing the rather childish thought that he should want it more often. Yet, for some reason she could not help wishing, he had objected to her counting herself among the monsters.

* * *

Ann did not turn on the light, when she entered her room. She closed the door, took off her cardigan and threw it onto a heap of clothes beside the door. She put the little basket, containing leaves and mushrooms, on a table and busied herself with matches.

The candle, she meant to light, ignited by itself.

"Thanks," she said, only now turning around to the vampire sitting on her bed. "It makes me feel so much more comfortable to see, whom I'm talking to."

She certainly had a definition of comfort that would not be matched by many mortals. Alucard's red eyes followed her, as she dug his Jackal out of a pile of sheep skins.

"Is there anything, you'd like to say in your defense?," he asked. "Because I'm going to make you pay for the trouble you caused me and my master."

Ann used the hem of her sleeve to polish the gun's barrel, squinting in the faint light to look for fingerprints: "What is there to say? I did, what Maxwell wanted me to do. But there's never before been a vampire so determined to regain his undead state, that I know of. And even if there was, he'd have to find a girl, both so dedicated to assist and qualified for the ritual as your master. In the end, your strange pairing even managed to pique a valkyre's curiosity. By the way, I hope, she won't be in a pique with you now. I mean – she cooperated, she did your bidding, and look what you did to her in return!" Ann smiled slyly. "I'm sorry for the trouble. I didn't mean it. But all in all, I still think, it was a great night. Yes. I really do."

Alucard stared at her: "That's your defense?"

"No. It's a personal assessment." She held the Jackal to his head: "_This_ is my defense."

Now, it was Alucard's turn to smirk: "You can't fire this gun without dislodging your arm. I don't care, if you try, though. Only remember, I warned you."

Ann shot him in the stomach, then handed him the gun, holding it by the searing hot muzzle.

"I'm a witch," she reminded him. "Witches do magic."

Alucard took the Jackal, the red glint of his eyes subsiding, as the terrible wound healed: "You know this is only buying you time..."

"I know that healing such a wound makes you want to drink, not spill." Ann pulled back her sleeve. "No side effects, if you don't take it to the extreme, Count. I promise. I need to be drained to work my gift."

"I hoped, you would say that!" Alucard took her wrist, hesitated and looked up at her: "Is there a special meaning to the crudely drawn illustrations of bulky keyboard instruments, heavy blacksmith tools and antiquated firearms on your mind?"

"It only means that I hope I tackled at the right moment to change your mind about making me pay."

"You know, there definitely is something about you, I really might come to like?"

"Aye," she said, holding her wrist closer to his teeth. "About a gallon of it. I wouldn't care, if you took more, though. Only remember that I warned you."

Alucard's fangs bit down.

+++The End+++

* * *

Well, so that's the wrap. Thank you so much for coming with me all the way. I had lots of fun writing this story. If you're here and reading this now, I assume, you had fun, too. So, the question is: Would you follow me to another crazy story? (Alucard is giving me the "time-out!"-sign. But is anyone here actually listening to monsters? :) ) I have a concept, but I will have to figure out, if it works. So, give me a couple of weeks, while I'll probably do some completely different stuff - maybe, we'll meet, and write, and read again.


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